Till We Ain't Strangers Anymore
by halliwelldream
Summary: When an old flame of Beth's comes to town, Mick is forced to reevaluate his relationship with her and face what happened almost 8 months ago. Meanwhile, everyone has their hands full when vampires turn out to be the victims of a series of murders.
1. Prologue

This was a concept that came to a while ago; it was inspired by something Beth said in "The Ringer" and the idea just grew from there. I'm actually very excited (and all kinds of nervous!) about posting this, so consequently, I am dying to know what everyone thinks! So please, let me know? Thanks and hope you enjoy!

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

"_I was kinda crazy about this guy at college." Beth Turner, _The Ringer

**Prologue**

_Seagulls drifted lazily in the fading daylight, some soaring high above the water and others skimming its surface. Behind them, the sky was painted with reds and oranges and yellows that bled together like colors on a still-wet painting. The sun hung just above the horizon, sending pale rays of sunlight glimmering off the surface of the water. Beth ran along the shore, enjoying the feel of the waves lapping against her bare feet as it came and washed her wet footprints from the sand. The calf-length sea green dress she wore twisted around her legs as she stopped suddenly, the soft fabric like a gentle caress on her skin. There he was!_

_His back was turned but she could tell he was wearing the t-shirt she liked him best in. It was old and faded but somehow, he managed to look impossibly good in it. Maybe it was the way it clung to his well-trained body but whatever it was, she often teased him about the unfairness of it all and how she didn't look half so good in old sweats and a sweater. "Luc!" she called, jogging up to him._

_He turned and wrapped his arms around her in a crushing embrace. "You're late," he breathed, leaning his chin on top of her head._

_"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his chest. "Gwen dragged me into town to say goodbye to everyone and we got a little carried away."_

_"Goodbyes already?" he asked surprised. He pulled back, alarmed. "You didn't decide to leave early, did you?"_

_"No, of course not," she assured. She slipped her hand into his slightly larger one and they began to walk. "It's just that with the ceremony tomorrow and all the people we have to say goodbye to here, we thought we might not have another chance."_

_Luc sighed. "I guess I'm still getting used to the fact that this time tomorrow, we'll be done with college…"_

_"It all feels so surreal," Beth agreed. "But aren't you excited to finally be done with school? Think of all the possibilities!"_

_"I guess…" Luc shrugged and gave her a sidelong glace. "Leaving here will be bittersweet."_

_Beth's eyes found his. "Yeah… I know what you mean."_

- - o - -

_Beth was leaning against Luc, her legs tangled with his, and he, in turn, was nestled among a cluster of wind-worn rocks. Around them, the cove was quiet save for the occasional crash of waves and the quiet whoosh of the salty night breeze._

_"It's such a beautiful night," Beth murmured, gazing dreamily at the sky. Stars sprinkled the inky blue-black expanse of the sky, seeming to wink, but what entranced Beth was the moon. It was luminous and full, ringed with smoky smudges of light. It saddened her to think that this might be the last time she saw the sky like this; it would be different in L.A. and though she was eager to return, she would miss the serenity and nighttime beauty that only a tucked away beach could offer. And she would miss this beach. Hers and Luc's beach, as she had come to think of it._

_"We should get back, before everyone worries," Luc whispered, toying with the hem of her dress._

_"We should…" But neither of them moved._

_"Beth?"_

_"Mmm?"_

_He slid his hand up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "I love you," he said softly, cupping her face and stroking her cheek with his thumb._

_Beth shivered and sat up straighter. She shifted in his arms so she could face him more directly. "I love you too." Her eyes, her face, her voice—they were all bright with smiles even though she had heard him say the words before. Every moment they shared tonight felt magical, new._

_He caught her gaze with his, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Are you sure you don't want to come to New York with me?"_

_Tenderly, Beth ran her palm across the top of his ragged, close-cropped copper-colored hair, then traced her finger down his cheekbone to his jaw. "I want to… you know I do. But L.A. is what feels right, right now. I never thought I'd feel homesick, but there it is."_

_"I understand." Luc rested his forehead against hers and moved his hand to rest on her shoulder. "But I'm really going to miss you."_

_Beth's eyes glittered with tears. "Me too. But who knows… maybe someday, we'll run into each other and fall in love all over again."_

_He brushed a finger beneath her eye and caught her tears. "Yes, someday," he promised._


	2. 1:Hard to Be Lovers Harder to Be Friends

Thanks to all for your kind reviews! It really does brighten my day. Having said that, I can promise that there's a happy ending in the works but it'll take a lot of twists and turns that I hope you guys will enjoy. And more canon characters to come in the next chapter so I hope I've managed to keep your interest. Enjoy!

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_It might be hard to be lovers,  
But it's harder to be friends,  
Baby, pull down the covers,  
It's time you let me in,  
Maybe light a couple candles  
I'll just go ahead and lock the doors  
If you just talk to me, baby,  
Till we ain't strangers anymore  
_

_ Bon Jovi & LeAnn Rimes, _"Till We Ain't Strangers Anymore"

**  
Chatper 1** - _Hard to Be Lovers, Harder to Be Friends_

_5 years later…_

"Please, come in," Mick said sarcastically as he closed the door behind Beth.

"Oh come on, Mick. Like you were really going to leave me standing in the hall. Don't you get tired of saying that to me?"

He chuckled. "Somehow, it never gets old." He gestured to the bottle of champagne in her hands. "So what's that for? I don't remember saving your life recently…"

"You didn't," she informed him, eyes twinkling with laughter. "This is to celebrate."

Mick stared at her, taken aback. "Celebrate what?" he asked innocently.

Beth sighed dramatically. "I _knew_ you'd forget." Then, under her breath, she went on to mutter something about men being thickheaded and dense.

The beginning of a ridiculous smile ghosted Mick's features. "So remind me."

"Okay, I'm not trying to sound corny or anything…" Beth wrinkled her nose. "But today is the anniversary of the day we met and I kind of thought it would be a shame to just let the occasion slide past…"

"You remembered the day we met," he stated, lips twitching.

A faint blush crept up her face and she wanted to smack him; clearly, he was enjoying this torture. "It was also the day of my first live report!" she said defensively.

"I see. And do you _normally_ make a point of celebrating year-old acquaintances?"

"Come on, Mick. Have a little fun." She held up the bottle. "Humor me?"

"Alright," Mick conceded. He went into the kitchen to look for champagne glasses, hiding a smile as he did. He didn't think he could ever forget the day he had come back into Beth's life; not after everything that had happened in the past year. Even now, he could still see her walking through the fine spray of water, barefoot, shoes in hand. He recalled marveling at the ease in her movements and how she seemed unaffected by the freezing droplets of water that must have been pelting her; he had almost believed that it was the most natural thing in the world to tread on slick, wet pavement as if you were treading on soft sand at a beach or the familiar floor of your home. The memory of that night had been enough to make him ache to hear her voice, to see her face, though he had already seen her earlier in the day. He had been considering calling her just to see if she remembered the significance of today but he knew he was only making excuses to mask his true desire: to be her company again.

Beth followed him and set the bottle of champagne on the counter. "Besides, I would hardly call _this_ an acquaintance… it's much more, don't you think?"

Mick ignored the question and deliberately clattered through his glassware. Through the noise, he thought he heard a huff of annoyance that sounded something like, "Vampires!" His lips quirked into another smile. This dance had become an old game for them but it never failed to send thrill rushing through him every time they settled into it. "Here." He turned and handed her two champagne flutes.

Beth popped the bottle open and filled one of the flutes but hesitated over the other. She glanced up a Mick.

He raised an eye. "What?"

"It's just…" She set the bottle down with a thump. "I forgot that you can't actually taste this…"

"Beth, it's fine."

"No, it's not. I should've remembered… I don't know why I didn't."

"Fill mine; I can bear a few sips."

"Don't be ridiculous." Beth pushed the empty glass toward him. "You should get yourself some blood."

"Really, Beth, it's okay. It's not as bad as I make it sound."

"You are still a very bad liar."

"That wasn't a lie…"

"Mick, I saw the way you ate when you were mortal. You savored every bite like it was your last; do you really expect me to believe that tastelessness doesn't bother you?"

He met the challenge in her gaze with equal fire but when he realized that she wasn't giving up, he backed down. Silently, he took the glass to his refrigerator and filled it with A negative.

The smile on her lips reached her eyes and transformed into mischievous laughter. "Now was that so hard?" She raised her flute and her expression became serious. "Here's to a crazy year I'll never forget. It's one of the best I've had in a long time… thank you for being my guardian angel."

"And thank you for just being here," Mick said simply. "I… I don't what I'd do if you weren't…"

They clinked their glasses together and fell into a pattern of sipping and casting furtive glances at each other. The room seemed to grow smaller around them as the space between them grew charged with unsaid emotions and unfulfilled wishes. Both struggled to find the words to articulate what they felt without upsetting the delicate balance on which their relationship had always hung. Finally it was Beth who lowered her half-drained glass and spoke. "So in the spirit of this celebration, I thought you might answer a question I've been wanting to ask you."

"No, I'm not working on a case without you," Mick responded automatically. Ever since she had found out that he had purposely left her out of the loop of his last case, she had hounded him about every case he was working on. He had argued that he had done it for her own safety but she refused to relent and Mick knew it was useless to hope she would.

Beth laughed but it wasn't enough to soothe Mick, who suspected she was about to address something that they had always left unspoken. "That wasn't my question but thank you for letting me know yet again." She crossed her arms on the counter and leaned forward. "I want to know what happened in Europe."

Mick almost choked. "I _did_ tell you what happened in Europe."

"But not everything," Beth argued. "You were in Europe for three weeks and it took you less than ten minutes to tell me what happened. That is not 'everything,' Mick."

"Beth, that was six months ago. It doesn't matter anymore."

"But it does, Mick, it does. Whatever happened there was important… ever since you came back, there's been this weird distance between us. I just want to know why."

He could feel the effort it took her to voice the question and he was alarmed. "It's not what you think," he told her quickly. "Everything turned out for the best; I couldn't see it then but I can see it now."

"You _know_ that's not what I want to know. I want to know what happened between you and Coraline. You can't just tell me—"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her say the words that would make it all too real again. He set his glass down harder than he had meant to, causing the red liquid inside to slosh. "It can't affect us anymore."


	3. 2: Hopes and Dreams

Thank you to everyone who's left reviews. I'm glad you're all enjoying this fic. I promise I'll be updating more frequently this week (since I'm on break) so enjoy and keep checking! And please, do continue to leave your feedback.

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

**Note: **This fic will be doing a little jumping from present to past. Just to avoid any future confusion, I'd like to say that any part taking part in the past will be preceded by a location and/or time frame.

* * *

_How long till our dreams run dry,__  
Don't know but we're stayin'__  
On our knees we raise our eyes,__  
Holdin' on and prayin' to find__  
One blue sky_

_ Sugarland, _"One Blue Sky"

**  
Chapter 2** – _Hopes and Dreams_

_8 months earlier…  
Pacific Ocean_

Consciousness returned in a rush of sensations as the stake slid out her chest. Her constricted air passages and lungs expanded without warning and Coraline choked on the gulps of air that pushed their way down her throat. She blinked several times but the lights above her were still hazy spots of yellow. She struggled to keep her eyes open but the ceiling seemed to tremble under her gaze and she immediately let them contract into a squint. She must have been out for awhile…

"Where am I?" she asked weakly. She didn't see anyone nor did she have the energy to sense another presence, but she knew Lance had to be close. He had been on her trail too long to risk leaving her unattended.

"On a private jet halfway across the Pacific," came the reply. Lance's head swam into her view, blocking the harsh glare of the lights.

Coraline blinked again. _Much better_. Without the constant brightness of the light, her vision was beginning to settle and the details on Lance's face were becoming less fuzzy. She tried to push herself into an upright position, but as soon as she did, the enclosed space spun crazily.

She heard Lance chuckle. "Don't bother," he said airily. "You haven't fed in hours and stake wounds, I'm afraid, have been known to account for tremendous drainage of strength."

"You're really doing it, aren't you? Bringing me to him?"

"I warned you that you would have to pay for what you did," he told her coldly. "You didn't _just_ take the cure; you humiliated me."

"We used to hunt together, go to court and single out victims." She looked at him with soft, dark brown eyes.

"Ah but you're not that woman anymore, are you, sister? If you were, you wouldn't have betrayed the family. And as you know, family is first."

"Family is first?" Coraline managed to muster a laugh. "Since when did you believe in the old ways? You sound like Jean."

"Jean is right," he snapped. "If you had stayed home like you were supposed to instead of running to the States, you wouldn't have brought this on yourself."

"I ran _because_ of Jean. He'll never be the leader Renard was, and as long as he keeps trying to be, he'll make a mess of things. You and I both know that."

"Maybe," Lance conceded. "But surely Jean's inferior leadership is not what led you to steal the cure from me. You broke Renard's first rule. You fell in love with a mortal. You know they can't love us for what we are; they'll never understand."

"No! That's not true," Coraline insisted. Memories of Beth flashed through her mind. She remembered the way Beth looked at Mick, the way she acted toward him… For months she had stalked the two of them, jealous, but unable to keep away. She had been eager to discover why Beth could see past the monster and why Mick couldn't. Why had he, who had promised to love her forever, run away, while Beth, who insisted the two of them were no more than friends, stood by him unconditionally? Coraline ached to know but as far as she had been able to tell, there had been no reason other than the complete trust Beth had for Mick. It had hurt her to think that perhaps he hadn't trusted her enough, hadn't loved her enough, but she refused to give up. Despite Renard's warnings, she had turned Mick, believing that he would understand. When he reacted less than ideally, she had been slightly alarmed but confident that he would come to forgive her. But she had been wrong, so wrong…

Lance glanced at her disdainfully. "Mick was the worse of them. You risked the wrath of the family to give him a gift and he didn't even realize it. You should have left him to die once you realized he was unwilling. Instead, you nurtured him and then stole the cure for him!"

Tears gathered in her eyes, making them appear glassy. "It wasn't just for him," she whispered.

Lance's eyes shot up. "_You_ took some of it?" He shook his head at her. "Is that why so much of it is missing?"

"Yes. I've been using it since I took it from you. I only stopped a few weeks ago."

"Who else did you give it to?" he demanded, fury beginning to twist his face.

"No one."

"Too much of it is missing for it to have only been you…"

"We've been running tests with it, trying to reproduce it."

"It can't be reproduced!" Lance hissed. "You've gone too far, sister. Once I tell Jean, there's no doubt what he'll do to you. You'll suffer just as Henri did."

"But I don't have to. You don't have to tell him," she pleaded.

"He won't subject you to anything you don't deserve," he leered. "Jean is nothing if not fair."

Coraline closed her eyes. "I know," she replied softly. She lapsed into a dejected silence, comforted only by the knowledge that at least she had made amends to Mick. Perhaps he would finally forgive her.

- - o - -

_Los Angeles_

"Mick." Josef smirked. "So you finally found the guts to visit dear, old Josef. I was beginning to think I would have to hunt you down myself." Josef shook his head pityingly. "I have to tell you, man, you look _terrible_. Mortality does not suit you, my friend."

Mick winced. "You knew?"

Josef snorted. "Of course I knew. You've been lurking around the office and the mansion for a few days now, Mick. My whole staff knew; they could smell your cowardly mortal ass. Personally, I'm insulted that you thought it necessary to avoid me. Why did you think I would do, turn you again?"

"I wasn't sure how you would take it."

"Aw, thanks for looking out for me," Josef replied sarcastically.

"I know you warned me to stay away from Lance and Coraline," Mick began carefully.

"I did," Josef agreed. "And I was right." He gestured to Mick's face. "Look what you got yourself into already. Forgot what it was like to be without your strength, didn't you?"

Mick sighed. "It hasn't been easy," he confessed. "But things will get better."

"So is it everything you thought he it would be?" Josef asked curiously. "Did you confess your everlasting love to Beth?"

Mick stared at him, scandalized. "It's not as easy as that! It's complicated…"

Josef waved his hand dismissively. "Let me guess, the dead boyfriend?"

"That's the biggest problem, yes."

"You really are a coward," Josef remarked.

"The best I can do right now is be there for her. I want this, but not if she's not ready for it."

"Good luck, man. Beth's good for you. Maybe you'll finally be able to let go of Coraline."

Mick raised his eye. "Thank you."

"Don't get used to it," he responded gruffly. "This has nothing to do with feelings of affection and all that crap. I just want you to stop sulking already."

"I will. There's nothing like being mortal again. The pain, the suffering—it all feels amazing."

"Good, good." Josef couldn't resist flashing him a fanged grin. He was relieved that things hadn't changed between them. When he had first found out that Mick had really found a way to regain his mortality, he had been surprised and uneasy. Though he would never admit it, he valued Mick's friendship and had been afraid he would want to sever all ties with the vampire community, himself included. Now that he had talked to Mick, he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his fear. Of course things wouldn't change between them. Mick was the kind of guy who held on, a fact which sometimes irritated, sometimes amused Josef. For once, he found himself glad for that quality in Mick. Everything was going to be fine, just fine.


	4. 3: Risks

As always, thank you to all my readers! You guys are the best! This was, so far, my favorite chapter to write so I'm really hoping everyone enjoys it. It was also a little tricky writing it and it had the potential to be very very confusing so if it comes across as confusing at all, please let me know! Thanks and happy reading.

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_We could sit on the shore,  
We could just be friends,  
We could jump in  
Whole world could change in a minute,  
Just one kiss could stop it spinning,  
We could think it through  
I don't want to if you don't want to  
We could keep things just the same,  
Leave here the way we came with nothing to lose  
I don't want to if you don't want to_

_ Sugarland, _"Want To"

**  
Chapter 3** – _Risks_

Beth all but ran out of Mick's building, blinking furiously to keep barely contained tears at bay. She stumbled to her car and climbed into the driver's seat, but beyond that, she didn't know what to do. It was late but the possibility of going home right seemed impossible. She wanted to be alone but she knew that to go home would only mean having to face the reality of her dilemma. And she wasn't ready… despite what Mick kept insisting, she wasn't ready.

She forced herself to turn the key in the ignition and pull the car out of its spot. She didn't know where she was going but she knew she didn't want Mick to see the condition he had put her in if he happened to be looking out. Around her, strains of laughter and music filled the air. Lights flashed cheerfully. Beth ignored them all and found herself driving to the beach. But when she got there, she was again, disappointed.

Everything was strange and unfamiliar. The sand felt gritty beneath her feet and no matter where she looked, she saw windblown litter. The motion of the dark waves swirled with white foam didn't seem calm and gentle but cold and cruel. The crash of those same waves reached her ears in a deafening roar, not at all rhythmic. Beth looked up at the sky and saw no stars—only pinpoints of barely visible lights. Then she realized those _were_ the stars. Her gaze traveled to the moon and she had to close her eyes against its harsh white brightness. Hard as she tried, she couldn't see what it was that had drawn her here tonight, couldn't find the simple beauty that had often given her solace. She had thought reconnecting with this part of her past would help her find clarity but this contradiction of what she had expected only confused her more. The tears spilled from her eyes then and this time, she did nothing to curb them. She decided she _did_ want to go home after all.

- - o - -

By the time Beth arrived home, she had composed herself. But when she stepped into the darkness of her apartment, she felt a spurt of irritation. Outside, the darkness had been simple, comforting, like a shield against all that was complicated. But in the stillness of her living room, the darkness only reminded her of Mick. She flipped the lights on and sank into the couch, staring at the cordless phone and the answering machine on the adjacent table. She tried to block it out but the memory of what had been said, of what had happened, flooded her mind.

_Beth pushed the half-empty champagne glass away and sat up straighter, eyes fixed on Mick's back. For the past few minutes, neither of them had said anything. "If not __Europe__, then there's something else I wanted to talk about, something else I wanted to ask you." Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Will you give me your honest opinion on this one?"_

_"Depends," he answered cautiously, without turning around. "What did you want to ask?"_

_"There's this guy… he's called me, asked me to call him back… I haven't yet."_

_Mick turned around then, allowing his eyes to meet hers. "But you want to," he stated, his voice betraying no emotion._

_"I don't know," Beth answered honestly. "It's been so long that sometimes, I don't know what I want."_

Beth bit her lip and fingered a button on her answering machine. Would he have responded differently if she had told him the whole truth? That the "guy" wasn't some stranger she had just met. That the "guy" was someone who had once meant everything to her. She smiled at the last thought and pushed the button to replay the message that had haunted her since she first heard it.

"Hey, Beth… I don't know if you still recognize my voice—I'd like to think I still recognize yours—but it's me… Luc. Luc Edwards." Nervous laughter bubbled from the machine. "I know it's been a long time since we've talked and longer since we've seen each other, but… I'm coming to L.A. It's for work and all, a case I'm on, but I thought… I just… well… I'd like to see you again."

Though she had heard the message countless times in the past three days, the sound of his voice, even recorded, sent a buzz of warmth across her cheeks. Feelings that she had thought were long dead clamored for attention, just as they had done the first time she heard the message. Feelings that made her wonder if could still mean everything even though she _knew_ in her heart that she had moved on, that it was Mick she wanted.

_"So you're asking me…?"_

_Her gaze never left his. "I'm asking you what you think I should do."_

_"Why? Isn't this one of those matters that you need to decide for yourself?"_

_"Yes… but your opinion matters to me. I can't decide without it. Do you think I'm ready?"_

It would be so much easier if Luc was the one she wanted. So much less complicated. She shivered as his voice continued to play, the warmth in her cheeks becoming chills down her arms.

"It's out of the blue, I know. But I thought we could try the friends thing again. Last time, we agreed we needed more time… well, time's on our side now. It would be a shame if we didn't at least try."

It was easy for Beth to imagine herself with Luc again. Easier than imagining herself with Mick. Easier than_ wanting_ Mick, who was sweet and chivalrous but oh so frustrating and infuriatingly dense.

_He seemed to want to turn away but thought better of it and settled into a contemplative silence without breaking eye contact._

_Beth felt her hope rise. "So you don't think I'm ready?"_

_"No!" Mick protested quickly. "You're ready, Beth, you're ready."_

_Her eyes fluttered closed briefly. "I thought so too," she agreed quietly. __But once I had a chance to really think about it, I realized I wasn't."_

_"Of course you are. You're strong, you've always been. You can—"_

_"No, that's not what I mean… For the past eight months, every time someone asked me out, I told myself I wasn't ready. At first, it was true… but as time passed, I had gotten so used to saying it that it was easier to stick with that than to admit the truth."_

_"And… what is the truth?" His voice was hoarse and pitched low, almost as if he anticipated what she was about to say._

_"The truth?" Beth stood and smiling faintly, she slowly crossed the distance between them, eyes shining with sadness and hope. She didn't speak until she was so close to him that he had to look down. "The truth is, I didn't want to be disappointed." She reached up with one hand and splayed her fingers across his chest. "And if I had said yes to any of those guys, I would have been disappointed. Because they weren't you. And they could never come close to being you."_

_"Beth…" He slid his hand over hers and gently pried it away._

_Beth countered by turning her hand over so their palms met. She slipped her fingers between his and closed them around his hand. She pushed down slightly and rose on her toes. For a few seconds, their faces hovered tantalizingly close without touching. Then Beth pressed her lips against his._

Just thinking about the kiss made Beth feel lightheaded. She felt as if her head would detach at any moment and float away. She vaguely heard Luc's message continue to play, but it was quickly fading into the background.

"I would be a liar if I said friendship is all I want. The truth is, a part of me wants more than that… I miss what we had, I miss you… I haven't met anyone like you since I came to New York."

Beth traced a finger across her lip, eyes glazed and faraway. Her better judgment screamed against it but she couldn't stop herself from trying to recall every detail. She barely noticed the way her faced flushed and her body warmed as she did.

_He tried to pull back but Beth tiptoed higher and threaded her other hand through his hair. Almost automatically, his resistance crumbled and he leaned into the kiss. The effect was electrifying. Beth felt a jolt race down her spine and she arched her back, lips parting in a gasp as she did. Mick's arm circled around her waist, steadying her, and she sagged against the newfound support, knowing he would not let her fall. She tilted her head back slightly and Mick leaned forward to adjust to her shift in position._

_"Beth…" he groaned as she flicked her tongue against his mouth, trying to tease it open. Then abruptly, he pulled back and pushed her away. "We can't do this." His voice was shaky and his breath shallow as the tried to regain control._

Beth still wasn't sure how to interpret his pulling away. She knew it was largely due to his self-hatred but it still hurt. She couldn't stop wondering if it was because in his heart of hearts, he didn't believe in them because he didn't trust her, didn't believe her every time she told him she wasn't scared of what he was. And that was what hurt most of all. She inhaled deeply and Luc's voice came back into focus.

"But as they say, the ball's in your court now. I would be happy just to see you again; it's been far too long. I understand if you'd rather not… but either way, I'll be waiting."

It would be nice to talk to Luc again, to feel wanted. He had made it unquestionably clear what he wanted… Could she really throw this chance away and not regret it? Especially considering the way she had left things with Mick…

_Beth blinked rapidly, disoriented by the sudden break of contact. She stumbled back toward him and cupped his face in her hand. "Mick, don't you see? It doesn't matter to me that you're a vampire… it never has."_

_"But it matters to me," he said softly. "There are so many things you don't know, so many things you don't understand."_

_"So tell me. Show me. I'm a quick study and I'm willing to learn."_

_He pulled her hand from his face and held it in both of his, tracing circles on her palm. He continued to stare at her hand as he spoke. "You should call him."_

_Beth furrowed her brows. "What?"_

_"The guy. The one you were asking for my opinion on. You should call him back."_

_"Oh." An unexpected lump began to rise in her throat and her eyes grew hot._

_"Beth, you're ready." He squeezed her hand comfortingly, pleadingly._

_"No… I mean, yes, I mean of course," Beth choked out. It was getting so hard to speak… She didn't know if she should laugh hysterically or cry right then and there.. "Look, I should just go. Coming here was obviously a mistake."_

_"Beth, wait." Mick gripped her hand, trying to draw her back. "I didn't mean it that way. You know I care about you."_

_"No, you were right. Absolutely right. I should call him back." She yanked her hand from his grasp. "Thank you. And good night."_

The worse part was, she found she couldn't stay angry at him and she hated herself for it. It had only been a few hours for goodness sakes! The pale pink of her cheeks deepened into a dark red and whether it was purely from resentment she couldn't say. How many times in the past months had they joked about their feelings? Shared looks that conveyed everything they felt? How could he bear to leave all that unspoken, unmanifested?

In an almost dream-like state, Beth picked up the cordless phone. Mick was right… he was wrong about so many things but he was right about this. She _should_ call Luc. He had always made her feel special and though it had been five years, she knew he wouldn't fail her. She raked her thumb down the rows of numbers to stop herself from automatically dialing Mick's number. Instead, she let Luc's number filter back into her memory, pressing the numbers as they came. By the time she had finished dialing, the heat in her body had become pleasant coil of warmth in her belly.


	5. 4: Something Amiss

I finally, finally got my lazy butt to sit down to write the next chapter. Thank you everyone for your response! I loved them all and appreciate it very much. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'm off to work on the next one...

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

**Chapter 4** – _Something Amiss_

"Charlie, will you _hurry_?" Scott hissed impatiently. Beside him, a blonde was crumpled on the hard cement, eyes wide with terror. When he spoke, she screamed against his palm and he clamped his hand around her throat with an inhuman strength, effectively silencing her. He turned his attention back to Charlie. "We shouldn't even be out here!" In the shadow of the alley, the sun was hidden from view, but its warmth still managed to flood the narrow space and dot his face with sticky perspiration.

Charlie eyed the whimpering girl dubiously. "Are you sure about this? I mean, isn't there some other way to get blood?"

"You can't get blood if you don't feed," Scott retorted exasperatedly. "Now come _on_. You've already cost us enough time as it is. We should have been doing this last night."

Unconvinced, but not knowing what else to do, Charlie obeyed him and crept toward the girl. His heart twisted at the sight of the tears that were beginning to stream down her face and he turned away. Tentatively, he reached for her, but his hands ended up hovering above her, unsure of where to situate themselves. "What now? Do I just… bite?"

"Inhale," Scott commanded.

When he did, a warm, rich scent assaulted his senses, causing the muscles in his stomach to tighten, and suddenly, he realized how very hungry he was. Inexplicably, his gaze was drawn back up the girl's body, to her neck and he noted the network of veins that throbbed beneath the skin, pulsating with blood, life. He licked his lips and felt the sharp points of his newly extended fangs.

"That's it, Charlie. You've got. Nice and easy now," Scott coaxed.

Charlie nodded but for a moment, he remained still, allowing the power and invincibility to wash over him. He could hear her heart beating rapidly and erratically, sending an inordinate amount of blood rushing through her system. Her fear wafted up to him, heady and strong, and his nostrils flared in anticipation. The last of his self-control slipped away and he sank his fangs into the pale flesh of her neck, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other pushing her hair away. He sucked greedily at wound, reveling in the way his anxieties and uncertainties shrank with every gulp. Authority coursed through him and he felt as if anything was possible.

"Charlie, you have to control yourself! Charlie! _Charlie_!"

He was dimly aware of Scott's voice reprimanding him but it was so far away… Around him, the world wavered and blurred before receding into a background of dark colors. All he was aware of was the viscous sweetness that laced his lips, flowed into his mouth, glided past his tongue. The rational part of him protested that he was satiated and it was time to stop, but the newfound predator in him refused to relinquish the girl and the dark pleasure she offered. He was so consumed by the high of her blood that he failed to notice when two men burst into the alley, hurling glass vials at them.

Charlie felt the cold glass touch the back of his neck before it shattered on contact and its contents seared his skin. The liquid ran down his back and he threw his head back reflexively as he screamed in pain. Blood shot out of the girl's torn throat and splattered across his chest and face. Charlie lapped the blood up eagerly and felt the pain diminish slightly. Before he could scramble to get more, Scott shoved him roughly.

"Charlie, _run_!" His breathing was shallow and uneven and his face was twisted with agony but his voice rang clearly above the din.

"But I can't… I don't—"

"Just go, Charlie! We'll find each other again later!"

A fresh volley of vials rained down around them and Charlie's mind shut down. _Run, run, run,_ whispered the voice in his head. So he ran. Vials pelted his arms and burst open but Charlie didn't register the pain. Behind him, Scott screeched, unable to escape fast enough but Charlie didn't turn back. He ran, thinking of only his own survival.

- - o - - 

"Sam! The other one, he got away!"

"There's nothing we can do about it." He bent down to get a closer looking at the writhing vampire. "Give me the stake; this silver can't hold him much longer."

Jason fumbled for the stake and upon finding it, tossed it to Sam, who plunged it deftly into the vampire's chest. A final roar filled the alley before silence descended. "You planning to go after the other one?" Jason panted.

"Eventually." He jabbed his chin toward the girl. "Look at what he did to her," he said disgustedly. "Is she still alive?"

Jason crouched beside her and picked up her wrist. "Dead," he confirmed. "Throat torn out and nearly drained too, from the looks of it."

Sam sighed. "Alright, then. Let's just take care of this _thing_ so we can get out of here. You have the machete?"

"Yes." But he made no move to retrieve it.

"Jason?" Sam held his hand out expectantly. "The machete?"

"I know it's a little late to be saying this, but… didn't you promise Fiona there would be no more hunting? That L.A. would be a fresh start?"

Sam was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. "It's not like we were out looking for vampires; we just saw them. We can't very well let them escape, now can we?"

"And what about the other vamps we've hunted since we got here?"

"Fiona will understand," he replied tersely. "She's the one who pushed me into this in the first place! Now, either give me the machete, or behead him yourself."

Jason sighed. "Here." The blade flashed as it passed from his hand to Sam's, the sharpened edge gleaming with promise.

- - o - - 

"Mick, I know you hate what you are, but can you at least _pretend_ to care about our kind?" Josef grumbled, annoyed. He was met with silence. "Okay… can you at least pretend to _hear_ me?"

Mick glanced up. "I heard you, Josef."

"What, no reaction? I tell you someone is out to get us and all you've got is 'I heard you'?" Josef shook his head. "I really need new friends…"

"What do you want me to say? You already roped me into agreeing to look into it before I even knew what was going on."

Josef smirked. "Don't give me all the credit. Your head was so high in the clouds you probably would have agreed to anything. So what happened this time?"

"Nothing happened."

"Oh God. In that case, I'd better prepare myself for the worse."

"Josef, do you understand what the word 'nothing' means?"

"Perfectly. With you, it means 'a key moment I'd rather not discuss with my best friend because he won't hesitate to point out my lack of good judgment and common sense'."

Mick rolled his eyes. "Fine. Beth and I had a fight."

"_Really_? What about?"

Mick closed his eyes involuntarily. Where did he start? What could he say that would even come close to describing everything that had happened?

_The moment Beth's lips touched his, Mick knew this kiss was special, different. It was unlike any of their previous kisses, and certainly anything but an innocent accident. This kiss was unyielding, determined; it sought answers and demanded his participation. It was a participation he shouldn't have allowed himself, but at the same time, one he couldn't refuse. As soon as he gave in, he knew that things had changed between them, that no matter what happened next, there would be no going back, no making light of their feelings anymore. Everything that had been left unsaid between them in the past eight months exploded in the kiss and all that was left was a promise. A promise to trust completely, a promise to stand by each other. But most of all, the kiss promised the beginning of something new and unknown but wonderful and extraordinary. That is, if they were willing to try. Beth was willing. Mick was willing. But still, knowing all this, he pulled back. He didn't deserve this. One day, he would, but that day wasn't tonight._

"Mick?" Josef waved his hand in front of Mick's face. "Earth to Mick!"

Mick's eyes snapped open and back into focus. "She kissed me… told me she wanted to be more than friends."

"Oh let me guess: you used the old 'I'm a vampire, you're a mortal' excuse again."

"It's a valid excuse," Mick argued. "Look at what happened with you and Sara!"

"I'm not saying you should turn her, Mick. I'm just saying that you should give her a chance. Put you both out of your misery. Maybe she'll surprise you."

"She does surprise me… every time I'm with her, she surprises me."

Josef wrinkled his face distastefully. "Much as I enjoy hearing about your suffering, I'd rather not hear the romantic goo that does with it… Please tell me you at least kissed her back."

"I did…"

"Well, looks like I was wrong about your lack of common sense! So if it wasn't the kiss… did she finally get tired of your excuse?"

"Not exactly… I, uh… advised her to give another guy a call."

Josef stared at him, aghast. "Now _that_ is what I call a lack of good judgment. Why on _earth_ did you tell her that?"

"She asked me! And before you give me another lecture, I know it was stupid of me, but what else was I supposed to say?"

"You big, bumbling fool! Why didn't you just leave it at 'I'm vampire, you're a mortal'? Were you going for flare?"

"I didn't spend twenty-three years protecting her for it to end like this, Josef. I'm not going to put her at risk by giving myself a chance to hurt her."

"So this is about the cure again. Mick, listen to me! Yes, the cure exists, but you're not going to find it here! The only way you're going to find it is if you go back to France!"

"Then maybe I will!"

Josef started. "You're crazy! It's not worth it! Not after what happened last time!"

"You said yourself that I should give Beth a chance. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should do something besides push her away for once."


	6. 5: Stand Back Up

Thanks everyone, for your reviews. I've had one crazy week back at school and knowing that people are enjoying my fic helps drive me to write. Been working on this update for an entire week and I have finally, _finally_, found the time to finish. I hope you all enjoy this, and meanwhile, I have a a lot of schoolwork to tackle...

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_Now I see it so clearly,__  
We're together but living separate lives,__  
So wanna tell you I'm sorry,__  
Baby I can't find the words__  
But if I could, then you know I would  
No, I won't let go,  
Know what we can be,  
I won't watch my life crashing down on me  
Guess I had it all, right there before my eyes  
Oh, I'm sorry now, we're the last thing on my mind_

_ LeAnn Rimes & Ronan Keating, _"Last Thing on My Mind"

**  
Chapter 5** – _Stand Back Up_

Between the craziness of work and the anticipation of meeting Luc, Beth had little time to dwell on her falling out with Mick. It had been almost two days since _that_ conversation and for what must have been at least the fiftieth time since, she tried to ignore the buzzing phone that inched its way towards her. She didn't need to look at the caller ID to guess that it was probably him calling to try and amend what he had said earlier that morning when she had finally answered one of his calls. He would barely talk to her that night and now, it seemed that was all he wanted to do.

He had left about a dozen messages so far, some patient and pleading, some exasperated and demanding, but whatever the tone, Beth held on to her resolve and refused to call him back. It wasn't that she doubted his sincerity—Mick was Mick and if he said he was sorry, he was being genuine and to boot, he was probably more affected by everything that had occurred than he let on. She felt guilty for dodging his calls and hurting him this way but she didn't know how else to handle the humiliation. The light banter, the casual flirtation, the wistful what-ifs—she had somehow misinterpreted them as favorable signs, as an indication that he was ready to at least _try_ and step forward. But of course, _of course_ he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to overlook what he was and he certainly wasn't ready to move forward. It had been naïve of her to believe that his feelings for her would be enough to draw him down from his perch of self-loathing. Sure they had shared a few moments, sure it was in his eyes, but never had he done anything to indicate that he had any intention of taking their emotional affair any further. _God_ she was shameless… no wonder he pulled away and pushed her toward another man

Beth wanted to make things right between them, but the problem was, the effort he was making wasn't enough. His messages held profuse apologies and confessions of his idiocy but he so obviously wanted to go back while she did not. What was the point of putting this behind them and pretending it had never existed when something similar would happen again? Now that it was out in the open, it was inevitable and only a matter of time. She was tired of friendship and beating around the bush, tired of the slow dancing and stepping on toes.

She knew better than to broach all the complexities in their relationship and the reasons why he allowed her to come close even as he put up a wall around himself; it would only throw her in a foul mood and bring her in circles. So to take her mind off him, she threw herself into work. To her relief, it had been surprisingly easy. A string of murders was plaguing L.A., made all the more intriguing by the cops' refusal to release any detail. Even Carl, who Beth was usually able to coax something out of, was adamantly tight-lipped, only permitting himself to comment that they were dealing with someone very dangerous. But early yesterday morning, Buzzwire had gotten a tip about a fresh murder: two college students, a boy and a girl. As soon as Maureen had passed the information on, Beth had taken off and she wasn't disappointed. There were authoritative figures swarming all over the place but with a few innocent smiles and nonchalant comments, Beth had no trouble slipping past them. She went right up against the yellow tape and saw a body being lifted onto a gurney but before she could make out any details, it was zipped up and whisked away.

Her gaze fell on the other body, the girl's, and she saw that for some reason, this body was not garnering as much attention as the other one had seemed too. There was a long gash on her throat and Beth shuddered at the sight of the mess of blood and severed veins spilling out. Black stains smudged her face and they could have been mistaken for bruises except that they were a solid grey-black and all over her body and clothes. Beth wheedled Carl for information, feigning ignorance and persistently questioning him about the "bruises". Finally, after a heated discussion, he caved and gave her two pieces of information: first, that there was an unaccountability in blood loss and second, that the "bruises" were actually the result of contact with silver nitrate.

If Carl had given her any other two pieces of information, she would have laughed in glee, but given the timing and given the suspicions that were beginning to form, she wasn't sure what to do with the information. The silver, the blood—she knew it was no coincidence. The only question was, who were the victims? Vampires or mortals? Mick could probably shed insight but Beth had been putting off seeing him, trying to convince herself that she didn't need an excuse to work up the nerve to see him.

But after twenty-four hours and much thought, she had to admit she wasn't fooling herself. She was grateful for _any_ excuse that would make it easier for her to approach Mick, especially since it was becoming clear that she couldn't put it off any longer. For now though, she had promised to meet Luc and having finally decided to see Mick soon, she left Buzzwire considerably less troubled.

- - o - -

Nervous couldn't even begin to describe Beth's state of mind when she arrived at the airport. During the drive there, the panic and doubts had begun to set in and now, she was feeling the full effects of it as she struggled to keep her thoughts from scattering in multiple directions. What was she thinking, giving life back to a relationship that had been dead for five years? What if she didn't recognize him? What if, in person, they found they couldn't reconnect? And really, why had she agreed to this? Did she truly feel nostalgic or was she trying to prove something to Mick?

_Get a grip!_ Beth shook the thoughts away and searched the shifting throng for Luc's face. Of course she would recognize him. How much could he have changed?

"Beth! Over here!"

Her gaze swung towards the voice and locked on a familiar pair of dark brown eyes. "_Luc_!" She rushed forward, worries dissolving.

He hugged her tightly. "God, it's good to see you," he breathed. "You look great."

Beth pulled back smiling. "You don't look so bad yourself." She touched the side of her face. "You grew out your hair, I see."

"That I did." He grinned. "I even had it dyed blond for awhile. Just like yours."

"You didn't!"

"I did. Ask anyone back in New York."

Beth laughed. "What are you, like twenty-one all over again?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I miss those days sometimes. Don't you?"

"Sometimes," she agreed. "Everything was so easy."

"And fun. We always had fun."

Beth rolled her eyes, groaning. "You _had_ to bring that up… So, where are you staying?"

"Penthouse Suite of the Beverly Wilshire," he declared, impish grin returning.

"Really? And how are you managing that?"

"You once said my charms would get me far in life. Don't you still believe it?"

Beth smiled slyly. "That is, assuming you still have those charms…"

"Brat!" he gasped. "And you say _I_ act twenty-one?"

"Even if you're not so charming anymore, so what? As I recall, I also said your bottomless bag of party tricks would get you far."

"And you turned out to be right. You'd be surprise how useful lock picking is in this field of work."

"Couldn't you just get a warrant?"

"Now where's the fun in that? Breaking and entering has a certain oomph to it."

Beth shook her head. "Five years later, you're still as impossible as ever…" But she was smiling.

- - o - -

Beth sat with her knees drawn up to her chin, watching the scene below her in amusement. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but since they had arrived, Luc had taken to pacing the sand agitatedly, crouching every now and then to examine one thing or another. She wasn't sure why he wanted to come here but when she had asked him if there was anywhere he wanted to go, he had unhesitatingly suggested the beach. But within minutes of their arrival, it was clear that his focus had drifted from her, so Beth had given up on him and climbed up to the rocks to let him roam in peace. From where she was sitting, it looked like he was scrutinizing everything in his path. Odd, even for Luc.

"Find what you were looking for?" she asked when he finally joined her.

"I don't know yet." He gave her a long look. "I guess we'll have to see."

"There are plenty of other beaches we could try."

"I've found all sorts of memories here but I'm sure that what I'm looking for can't be found on a beach." His gaze continued to bore into her.

"Hmm…" Beth leaned on her knees, staring out at the orange and yellow tinted water as she spoke. "So you meant what you said? That you want to try again?"

"It's part of why I agreed to fly out to L.A."

Beth turned, sensing that the conversation hung precariously between safe and friendly and awkward and unknown. "You never did tell me why you came to L.A. You said you had a case." The tension eased up just the slightest.

Luc studied her, seeming to understand that she was leaving him with some sort of choice. "A murder," he said slowly. "Or rather, a series of murders." And just like that, the space between them was permeated with its prior lightness.

Beth let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. So she wasn't ready after all. She sat up and focused on his last words, _murders_. She could work with that. "Murders so big you'd come to L.A.? Any chance you need a partner in crime?"

"You always were interested in this sort of stuff," he remarked.

"You know what they say—crime never sleeps. That's why I'm paid to keep up with it."

"So I've seen," he acknowledged. "Speaking of that, I should be asking if _you _need a partner in crime."

"What?"

"Seems like the case I'm working on is L.A.'s latest headline."

"You don't mean… No! It can't be!"

"It's true. Those college murders you were investigating yesterday, those murders are why I came to L.A."

"But why? We have a perfectly capable police force."

"And I bet you haven't been able to wrangle any details from that perfectly capable police force."

"I won't even ask how you knew that… just spit everything it all out before I strangle you out of suspense."

"Have you been able to unearth the M.O.?"

"Slit throat?" she guessed.

"No. Decapitation."

Beth felt her heart race and her hands grow cold. "_Decapitation_?"

"Yes. And all the victims have silver nitrate stains and similar stab wounds in the chest."

"But why hide that from the public? What are they so afraid will happen?"

"They're afraid of people making the connection to New York."

Beth's eyes widened. "Are you saying…?"

"Until a few weeks ago, these murders were happening in New York."

"But how can you be sure you're looking for the same culprit? For all you know, the guy here could just be a copycat."

"We thought so at first. Especially since there was one key difference. There, the bodies kept disappearing from the morgue, whereas, here…"

"Here, they disappear between the time they're called in and the time the cops arrive," Beth finished.

"Exactly. But since the murders have started in L.A., things have been quiet in New York."

"So…" Beth began cautiously. "What you're saying is, you need all the help you can get."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I have friend. He's good with this sort of stuff and I've thinking that he could be a big help."

"He?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"And he's good with 'this sort of stuff'? As in, decapitation and puzzling trends?"

"What do you want me to say? He's seen a lot stuff like this in his lifetime, that's all." She stood and began walking briskly. "So are you coming or not?"

Luc scrambled to catch up with her. "Beth, hey! I'm not judging. It's just, when you tell me he's good with a grisly method of murder, what am I supposed to think but 'Who is this mysterious guy?'?"

Without breaking her pace, Beth turned to face him. "Tell you what, Luc. Let's just start at friends and see where it goes from there."

"I can work with that." He cocked his head, eyes twinkling with mischievous laughter. "I always did like a challenge."

"Good; you can start now. Be nice when I introduce the two of you."

- - o - -

Evening was fast approaching and despite the hours Mick had just devoted to his freezer, he felt decidedly exhausted. He sighed. He should have expected as much; once the day started badly, the rest of the day would follow suit. It was pathetic logic, even by his standards, but he was in no mood to make an attempt at optimism.

The day had started out well enough. Josef had called to inform him of another murder, telling him that if wanted to get a look at the body, he had better hurry. He knew he wouldn't be able to make it fast enough, so he called Beth to enlist her aid. Truth be told, he called her most because he wanted to see if she was still ignoring him. And she had answered. Mick had to smile when he heard her voice greeting him, sounding abashed. But that conversation had quickly gone bad. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he had told her they needed to talk and she immediately demanded to know if it was about the other night. Mind intent on the case, Mick had answered no, but by the time he realized his mistake and tried to explain himself, she had hung up. So he had gone to find the body and just as he expected, it was gone by the time he arrived. There were patrol cars circling the area, but like Mick, they found that everything was spotless and in place. The Cleaner waited for no one.

He went to Guillermo to see if he could take a look at the few bodies that had managed to make it in to the morgue but Guillermo had nothing to show him and he could tell Mick nothing he didn't already know. Naturally. By then, Mick had had enough, but before he went home to get some rest, he decided to stop by Buzzwire and confront Beth in person. She was nowhere to be found and after some asking around, he was told she had requested the rest of the day off.

When he tried to settle into his freezer, he couldn't get comfortable. He couldn't stop wondering what Beth was doing, where she was. Was it too late to tell her that his words had been just that—words?

_"The guy. The one you were asking for my opinion on." He tried not to look at her, tried not to see the way her face fell. "You should call him back."_

He hadn't meant it, of course he hadn't meant it. That night, he had only been thinking of her safety and well-being, not of his own feelings and desires. But if she had called this guy back, what right did he have to interfere if he wasn't going to give in to those feelings and desires? Josef was right… he had made a mess of things. If only he was mortal. Everything would be so simple, as simple as it had been those few weeks after Josh's death.

Somehow, with all those thoughts drifting through his subconscious, Mick had been able to fall asleep. But as he was discovering now, the sleep had been anything but restorative. He just hoped blood would do the trick. He took out a glass, preparing to pour himself some A-negative but just then, a knock sounded. He set the glass down and went to the door, hardly daring to hope.

"Beth."

"Hey." She smiled tentatively at him. "Sorry about this morning… I overreacted."

_But only because I was a jerk._ "It's fine. I do want to talk about what happened." The words came out stilted and hesitant but Mick found that voicing it was an immense relief.

"Actually…" She tilted her head behind her. "I brought someone."

Mick felt his throat tighten when he saw another man step forward. He was someone from Beth's past, someone important. He knew because one winter, Beth had come home from college, ecstatic about a new boyfriend. Curious, Mick had gone to see the guy for himself, ignoring Josef's disapproving comments. He had been happy for her then, but now, seven years later, he felt a stir of jealousy. She had reconnected with her first love.

"Mick, this is Luc Edwards. Luc, Mick St. John."

Mick forced a smile and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Beth shot Luc a look. "Nice to meet you too," he said. Then he returned Beth's look, his expression seeming to say, _happy?_ Mick didn't know whether to be distressed or amused.

Beth turned back to Mick. "Can we come in?"

"Of course." He ushered them in, watching their interactions. "Do you want anything? Water? Coffee?"

"No, we're good," Beth assured him. She sat on the far end of the couch, while Luc sat on the other end.

Mick remained standing. "So what did you say this is about?"

"Luc is a detective from New York," she explained. "You know the murders I'm covering?"

"Josef put me on that case," he remarked dryly.

She lit up. "So you already know about it?"

"Not much, but yes."

"They started in New York," Luc spoke up. "A few months ago. We didn't make the connection at first because it had only been one or two. But as time passed, the numbers started to rise and we began to notice the patterns."

"Mick, they were decapitated." Beth stared at him meaningfully, gaze unwavering. "I haven't seen any of the bodies, but Luc says they all have chest wounds." Her hand instinctively reached up to touch a spot on her chest, identical to the spot Mick had been staked several times before.

"I know. Not about the st—the wound, but about the _other_ thing. That's why Josef asked me to look into it." Damn. He had almost forgotten Luc was here.

"So you can help," Luc stated.

"I can help," Mick confirmed, but never taking his eyes from Beth.

"I can bring the files by tomorrow if you want to take a look at them."

Mick finally turned and looked him in the eye. "That would be helpful, thank you."

Luc stood and Beth followed suit. "I just want this guy behind bars. He's been doing this for far too long. Beth says if anyone can do it, it's you. I hope she's right."

"I'll try not to disappoint," he replied as he saw them to the door.

Beth smiled at him. "Mick, thank you. I wanted to ask you earlier but… well, you know."

"Beth, wait." He caught her wrist as she was turning to leave. "We need to talk," he said in a low voice.

"We've tried talking and we keep going in circles," she whispered back. "I'm tired of that. I want to move forward, one way or another."

"Breakfast tomorrow?"

She glanced briefly into his eyes and Mick tried to show that he understood. "Okay," she agreed. "Breakfast tomorrow."


	7. 6: Façade

Thanks to all for your enthusiasm! I know it's been over a week since my last update, but I haven't been slacking off, I promise! This was another fun chapter to write, so as usual, enjoy and leave reviews if you feel so inclined!

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_Here comes the wind, let your string unwind__  
Run as fast as you can in your mind__  
Back to a place that you never forgot__  
Before everything was lost__  
I don't remember when we ran out of rope__  
When we did, we lost all hope__  
We just stood there cryin'__  
That's what we learned about flyin'_

_ Emerson Hart, _"Flyin'"

**  
Chapter 6** – _Façade_

_1787  
Versailles__, France_

"But Uncle, I don't _want_ to go back to court!" Coraline paced the private audience chamber agitatedly, her posture vehement.

"And why not?" Renard asked severely. "Your brothers have already returned."

"Yes, but it's different for them."

"How so?"

"They are noticed, favored. What they do and say matters and is celebrated."

"Ah, _petite ch__érie_, you matter more than you think. And besides, you are the Queen's favorite."

"Only because I do not whisper about her as the other girls do," Coraline retorted scornfully. "Please, Uncle, don't send me back. I cannot stand the other girls!"

"I see." His eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Truly Uncle!" She threw her hands up exasperatedly. "I cannot get a moment's peace! Everywhere I go, there they are with their incessant chatter and overly extravagant gowns. _Elles sont b__êtes!_"

"But _ch__érie_, that is court life. It is how the Queen wishes it to be."

"Maybe so, but what do they care what the Queen wishes? They despise and fear her. They say she is a witch and that it is because of the sin of what she practices that she was childless for so long. They claim that she drinks human blood by the light of the full moon, that she has drunken their blood on many occasions."

"And you? Do you believe what they say? Do you fear the Queen?" He seemed suddenly fixated to her face as he awaited her response, eyes glinting strangely.

"If there is anything unbecoming about the Queen, it is that she is Austrian. Why should I fear her simply because of that? Marie Antoinette is as mortal as you and I."

At this, Renard burst out laughing, his mirth so great that the small room echoed with his laughter.

Coraline stared at him. "What is it? What did I say?"

"Nothing, it was nothing," he said, even as he wiped tears from his eyes. "They are wise words for one so young."

"Then why did you laugh so?"

"Wise words they may be, but it would do you well to fear the Queen."

"But why? She is as frivolous as the other girls, perhaps worse so. How can I fear one such as she?"

"Tell me, how old are you? Twenty?"

"_Oui. Vous saisez que c'est vrai._"

"Ah, _bon_. When you are _vingt-et-un_, I have a surprise for you, approved by the Queen herself. And we will, of course, throw you _une grande f__ête_. That would please you, _non_?"

"Very much, Uncle. But what has that to do with fearing the Queen?"

"Well, Coraline, that _is_ the surprise. You'll come to understand everything in time, but for now, you must return to court. I insist on it."

She sighed. "Yes, Uncle." She hadn't really believed she would win her case. After all, if she didn't return to court, what else was there for her to do? But she hoped he would at least understand her position.

"Come now, don't look so sullen. _Bon courage, ma petite ch__é__rie_. Things will get better soon, I promise."

- - o - -

_Present, 8 months earlier…  
Versailles__, France_

Incoherent murmurs transformed into restless groans and restless groans into stifled screams, all in a space of a few seconds. Coraline awoke abruptly, breathing hard as her thrashing limbs stilled. She knew intuitively that she was in France and through this knowledge, she knew she was likely to face Jean's judgment before the day was over. Perhaps he was discussing her punishment even now. The truth was, she had always been intimidated by Jean. With him being the oldest and her, the youngest, the gap between them was over ten years wide and daunting, to say the least. Vampirism had closed that gap but it did nothing to alter the hostility between them. He had always treated her as if it was his right to exercise superiority over her, because of both, her sex and age, and Coraline would have none of it. _That_ had been the real reason why she had protested against returning to court. Things had been particularly bad at that time and she suspected it was because he had known she would soon be brought into the bloodline and the fact that she was female and younger would matter less.

Coraline stared at the dark canopy above her, trying to blink away the last of her dream. She didn't want to remember what Henri's face had looked like, how his piteous wails had sounded. She knew she was likely to be subjected to the same fate and if she couldn't push the memories away, she would be scared and Jean would get what he wanted. A rustle of movement caused her to sit up and she noticed, with surprise, that the room didn't spin. The dizziness, the fatigue—it was all gone. She squinted; the room was, however, unpleasantly sunlit. A moment later, a figure scurried across the room and yanked the curtains closed. She peeked at Coraline timidly. "I only meant to get some warmth," she mumbled. "I didn't know you were awake."

Coraline had to lean forward to get a better look at the petite girl, eyes still adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. "What's your name?" she demanded.

Chocolate strands of hair twisted around the girl's finger as she worked up a nervous response. "Sonya, milady."

"And which of my brothers do you belong to?"

Fragmented laughter escaped from her lips. "I- I don't know if I'm allowed to say…"

Coraline sighed. "Well is there anything you _can_ tell me?"

"Your brother, he's waiting to see you. I'll uh, I'll go get him." She was out of the room before Coraline could question her further.

The wait, though no more than a minute or two long, was agonizing. When she heard muffled voices on the other side of the door, she strained to hear who it was. The voices stopped and there were light, quick footsteps before the door creaked open.

"Philippe!" she exclaimed, relieved.

He studied her with eyes as dark as hers. "You don't seem particularly happy to see me," he noted.

"I was sure you were—"

"Jean? You needn't worry about him. He knows how we feel about your return and he's agreed to leave you in peace till your time to stand trial comes."

"And how do you all feel about my return?"

"Pleased, of course. It's as it should be."

"Maybe it is now, but not for long. You know what Jean will sentence me to."

"No." Philippe shook his head vigorously. "Jean is willing to forgive you."

"Don't joke with me, Philippe. You know how he feels about me, how he's always felt. If custom allowed, he would have me killed outright."

"You have to stop provoking him, Coraline. Stop challenging his authority. He feels threatened by you."

"Then why not just let me go? Why send all his lackeys after me when I fled back in 1862? He's not stupid; he knows I can't be bullied into submission. I was doing both of us a favor."

"It's hard for him, Coraline, you know that. We all miss and respect Renard. Jean knows he'll never come close to being half the leader Renard was, but he's doing the best he can. _You_ were Renard's favorite. He couldn't just let you go without a fight. And he certainly can't allow his personal feelings toward you to dictate how he treats you."

"Fine. Say he does pardon me. What does he expect of me in return?"

"Your loyalty, your obedience. He wants you to promise to remain on the continent and not run back to the States."

"Then I don't need his forgiveness."

"Coraline, do you understand that this is your life we're talking about? This is your chance to live. Don't let your pride decide. I can smell your fear. Take what Jean is offering you!"

"Do you think I want to die, Philippe?" she snapped. "Of course I'm scared; how would you feel if you were in my position? I can't let fear make the choice for me."

"You saw what happened to Henri," he persisted. "Do you really think you'll fare any better than him?"

"Henri was soft. I'm not."

"Coraline!"

"If you're not going to help me, then don't ask me to make promises I have no intention of keeping," she countered, refusing to relent. "I won't do it, I just won't."

- - o - -

It was evening when Lance came to collect her, his attitude indifferent. He gestured her out of bed and toward the door, never once letting go of her.

Coraline kept looking at him but he remained silent. "What, no final words? Not even a 'You deserve this'?"

"I _fought_ for you, did you know that? When you ran, I told Jean to drop it, to let you go. I convinced him that gone, you couldn't cause any trouble. We _all_ vouched for you. Then you marry a mortal, bring him into our bloodline, and give him the cure! Do you have any idea what you've cost us? I trusted you!"

"I'm selfish, I've always been selfish. Are you really surprised that I did what I did? I didn't betray you, Lance, nor did I betray the rest of the family."

"Tell that to Jean." He pushed her through a pair of heavy wooden doors, releasing his grip and letting her stumble in.

Coraline saw that the room was as ornately decorated as it had been 146 years ago and she almost recoiled in disgust. Jean always was one for protocol and tradition. The polished hardwood floor shone almost as brightly as the glittering gold and crystal chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. They lined the ceiling in a straight line, ending right above Jean, who was at the far end of the room, seated on a raised, stiffed-back wood chair lined with velvety red cushions. Below him, the others were standing fanned out, all of them watching her. Lance didn't join them as she had expected but remained behind her.

"Sister," Jean greeted, tone cold and expression bored. "It's been a long time. One and a half centuries I believe."

Coraline regarded him silently. She couldn't understand why she feared him so. There was nothing impressive in his appearance, nothing powerful in his manner. When she looked at him, all she saw were masquerades. But sill, there was that fear, that unquashable fear.

"Come now," Jean sighed. "Don't be difficult. You're home and we're glad. We'd be gladder still if your return was for less somber reasons."

Coraline snorted. "I can assure you my return was not by choice."

"You always were the proverbial thorn in the side, sister. I could never understand why you were Renard's favorite."

"A thorn I may be, but at least he never had to pay for my mistakes," Coraline spat out, emboldened by her anger. "Had you been more careful, he wouldn't have gotten killed cleaning up for you!"

"And what of you?" Jean narrowed his eyes, face growing flushed. "What you did was no better. Fleeing the continent when we needed you most. Abandoning your family, your culture. When have we ever given you reason to be dissatisfied? Renard always made sure you got what you wanted and this is how you repay him? By forgetting all he's taught?"

"I may have left France but I will _never_ forget all that Renard has given and taught me."

"Well then, _viens. Parle en fran__çais. Ou as-tu oublié la langue?_"

"I have forgotten nothing," Coraline replied, gazing into the cold blue of his eyes. "Nor do I have anything to prove to you."

"Philippe has told you my conditions." Not a question but a statement. He waited in vain for her affirmative. "Do you accept?" he growled, frustrated.

"Do you I pledge to obey you witlessly, to remain here? No, I do not." She kept her eyes focused on Jean, ignoring the shifting movements below him and ignoring the glare she felt Philippe give her.

Jean, on the other hand, did not react. Coraline wondered if he was secretly pleased. "You're aware that all you've done is a crime in our eyes? Brining a mortal into our bloodline, stealing the cure, leaving the continent without our blessing."

"Yes."

"And you're aware of what the alternative is for crimes such as those?"

"Yes. Trial by poison, is it not? Unless things have changed since you last administered it." She forced herself not to look at Henri, though the urge to see his face was overwhelming.

"You're aware that silver and arsenic will be injected into your bloodstream? That you will be kept in isolation and given minimal blood? That it is a test of whether or not you are able to outlive the poison?"

"Yes."

"And you're aware that if you forfeit, there will be harsh consequences awaiting you?"

"Yes. I hear and accept these rules." Again, Henri's experience rose to mind, lying unspoken. She could see in Jean's eyes that he had wanted to bring it up as an example. _Bastard._

"Very well." Jean straightened unconsciously and brushed invisible specks of dust off his front. "So be it."

A terrible silence filled the room. Below Jean, five pairs of eyes flickered up to him, then down to Coraline. Finally, one of them stepped forward. "_Attendez! Un mot s'il vous plaît._"

Jean turned toward the speaker, annoyed. "What is it, Philippe?"

"Brother, Coraline does not always know what is best for her. She is stubborn, you've seen that. Once she starts the trial, she won't give up and that will likely be the death of her."

Jean glowered at him. "What are you suggesting? I've given her a chance to repent and she threw it back at me. I can't very well let her go unpunished."

"Spare her." Philippe help up a hand to silence him. "Wait, hear me out. Let her stay with me while you think of a more fitting punishment. I—no, _we_—will keep an eye on her and see that she does not compromise us again."

Jean glanced at each of the brothers in turn. "You all agree to this? You all prefer this to what tradition commands?" He was met with affirmative murmurs. He turned back to Coraline. "Well? What say you, sister? Do you agree to this?"

For a moment, Coraline's eyes glittered with triumph but it was so quickly replaced with demure submission that it went unnoticed. Her lips curved in a barest hint of a smile. "_Oui. Merci, mes frères_."

- - o - -

_2 weeks later…  
Los Angeles_

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Josh's funeral, two potentially excruciating weeks. For Beth, they had flown by. True, she still had trouble sleeping, still had a hard time being alone in her apartment, but somewhere along the way, she had begun letting go of the pain and allowing the sadness to fall away. She hadn't thought it was possible but she felt refreshed, reborn, like a butterfly newly emerged from a cocoon, its wings still dewy. She felt as if she had been given a second chance. Her body, which had been heavy with grief, felt lighter, freer. She wanted to run to the ends of the earth, dance uninhibited. Just to show she could. She stopped crying herself to sleep, stopped hiding from friends who didn't understand but who cared. And now, here she was, at the door of the friend who had cared the most, the friend who _had_ understood. An easy smile graced her features and eager laughter rested at the back of her throat. She knocked, anticipation making her face flushed and eyes bright.

The door swung open and Mick stepped aside to let her in, just as he had done every day for the past two weeks. His smile was soft and unguarded when he greeted her. "Have something planned?" he asked, eyeing the large bundle under her arm.

She handed it to him. "A thank you for not giving up on me these last two weeks."

Mick took her offering gingerly and brushed a hand across the worn leathery surface. It was a book, he realized, with sheaths of additional paper clipped between the pages. He looked at Beth questioningly and she motioned for him to open it. He lifted the wrinkled pages carefully. "Beth, these are recipes…"

"I know." The laughter escaped then, sweet and spontaneous. "Since we've already done grocery shopping, I thought we might as well tackle cooking. That is, if you want to."

His laughter mirrored hers. "I'd love to."

- - o - -

"Mick, come _on_." Beth was laughing. "If you don't make a choice soon, you might as well live on takeout."

Mick looked up. "But you already have something cooking…" he protested.

"I don't think soup will satisfy your appetite," she teased as she turned back to the stove.

"How can you expect me to choose one from this mountain of recipes?" he shot back good-naturedly. "Where did they all come from anyway?"

"Most are family recipes that have been passed down."

"Passed down? Are you sure you want to part with this?"

"I've practically memorized everything that's been written in there. I never open it anymore unless it's to add another recipe. It's better off with you. And besides, it provides a good excuse for visiting you."

"You've added a _lot_ of recipes," he remarked.

"Just things I've tried over the years. Magazine clippings, printouts—whatever looks interesting."

"Well this one looks interesting." He pulled one of the loose sheets out and pushed it across the counter. "Cock in a reduction sauce."

Beth went very still. "It's nothing special," she mumbled after a moment's pause. "It's just another chicken recipe."

"I can live with that," Mick replied amiably. "Chickens hold good memories for me."

"Mick, please. Anything else but this, okay?" She stirred the contents of the pot emphatically, jumping back when she was splattered. The whole time, she kept her face hidden from him.

"Beth?" Mick felt suddenly tentative as he moved to stand behind her. He touched her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Beth collapsed at his touch, turning so she could lean against him. Mick instinctively wrapped his arms around her. "I thought it would be fun to try but I never made it. Josh did. He cooked it for our anniversary dinner." Her body shook with sobs.

"I'm sorry." He held her tighter. "I didn't know."

"I treated him so badly that night. I humiliated him in front of all our friends in front of all our friends and then got angry with him when he couldn't be understanding. I wish I could take it all back."

"Hush now, it's okay," he whispered. "It's all in the past. Come, sit." He pulled her toward the couch and guided her down, still holding on to her hands even after she was seated.

"But I can't leave it in the past," she confessed miserably. "Every time I'm reminded of him, I feel guilty and I don't know how to make that go away."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Beth. You couldn't have changed what happened." He swallowed hard. "No one could."

Beth sniffled. "No, it's not that. It's all his stuff. They're all boxed and ready to be sent back to his family but it's all just sitting in my apartment."

"Then why don't you send them back?"

"I can't. I- I don't know what to do with the ring. It was his grandmother's and he wanted to give it to me. I'm sure his parents must have known. What do I tell them when I send it back?"

"The truth." Mick rubbed his thumbs over the back on her hands. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You loved him."

"But not enough, not the way he loved me," she cried, voice growing frantic. "I didn't deserve him. He never asked anything of me that he didn't have the right to demand but I could never see that. I just assumed that he didn't care enough, that he was being difficult so I left him hanging, wondering where our relationship was. I can't tell his parents that. I can't tell them I was falling out of love with their son until he started bleeding to death in my arms."

"Then don't. Beth, look at me." He placed a forefinger beneath her chin and raised her head so that it was level with his. "Whatever you tell them will hurt, truth or lie. Their son just died—there's no way you can spare them from that pain. So tell them the part of the truth that will make them smile, tell them what was in your heart those last moments. Whatever it is, they won't begrudge you for it. You know why?"

Beth shook her head.

Mick shifted his hand to caress her cheek. "Because you have a beautiful heart."

She smiled blearily and Mick could see in her eyes that she was starting to believe again. "Thank you," she said softly, leaning into his hand and closing her eyes.


	8. 7: Chasing Stars

Hi all! So sorry about the long wait, but I had to focus my creative energies on a writing assignment for school. So no worries, I didn't forget about this fic. Thanks for the reviews and enjoy the chapter!

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_Still the sweetest dream I know  
Still the place I want to go  
Still the one thought on my mind  
After all this time, you're still in my heart  
You're still in my heart _

_ Little Big Town, _"Still"

**  
Chapter 7** – _Chasing Stars _

"You know, when you said breakfast, this wasn't what I had in mind."

Mick gave her a confused look. "This?"

"You know, _this_." She waved her fork vaguely. "Public café, public _outdoor_ café. Me eating, you watching…"

"Of course… It only makes sense that I would say breakfast and mean something else."

Beth prodded the eggs on her plate nonchalantly. "I just thought it was your roundabout way of asking to talk."

His calm demeanor wavered momentarily, but Mick was unperturbed. "We do need to talk. You've been avoiding me."

His accusatory tone demanded her attention, but Beth refused to look at him. "Well what is there to talk about? I laid my heart out for you and you threw it back in my face. You made it perfectly clear where you stood. So I moved on and convinced myself that it was nothing more than a simple misunderstanding."

"Look, I know what I said, and I know hurt you—I'm sorry—but I think you're jumping to too many conclusions, Beth. If you had just given me the chance to explain—"

The fork in her hand clattered against the plate and echoed loudly, garnering them curious glances from nearby patrons. "And would you have said anything I haven't already heard? _God_, Mick I thought we were past all this. It's been a year, a _year_! What do you need me to do to prove to you that this isn't all a big game to me? What I did was spur of the moment, yes, but the way I feel… there's nothing spur of the moment about that."

"You know how I feel—how I've always felt—about vampire-mortal relationships. This isn't about you needing to prove yourself, Beth; it never has been. It's about keeping you safe."

Beth's cheeks flushed with anger. "Tell me, was I the only one who felt something that night? Was I wrong to think that in that moment, we both wanted the same thing?"

"No."

A shocked silence followed. Beth stared at him, eyes blinking inconsistently and features quivering rapidly. Was she in for another mind game? Was she _up_ for another mind game? "Then why? Why is this nothing more than a friendly breakfast date?"

He sighed deeply but his hesitation was short-lived. "Do you remember that day you came over to teach me how to cook? The day you gave me all those recipes?"

Beth regarded him suspiciously. "Of course…"

"That was a good day, wasn't it?"

She was quick to smile. "It was. But as I recall, we got more talking than cooking done."

Mick tilted his head back, letting it fall into the sunlight. The warmth flowed over his face and trickled down his neck, and he had to close his eyes against the brightness but he didn't flinch or shrink back. "That day, I felt completely mortal. When you cried about Josh, I dried your tears without feeling guilty about the decision I made to let him die. It was one of the few days I didn't think about what would happen when I reverted… I felt free. If you had asked me that same question then, that question about seeing someone else, I would have fought for you. That day, I would have done anything to keep you close to me."

"So what's changed? Besides the obvious that is. Why won't you fight for me now?"

"Everything has changed. It's been a long time since I felt the way I felt that day."

"Felt_ what_ way?"

"Like I could tell you anything—my doubts, my hopes, my past—and it wouldn't change the way you look at me."

"You still can." She reached across the table to hold his hand and the sadness and sympathy in her eyes extended toward Mick as well. "I will _never_ walk away from you because of what you are or who you were. The only thing that matters to me is who you are now."

"There's a lot you don't know, Beth, things you can't even imagine, things I wouldn't be able to make myself tell you while I am what I am."

"You still want to be mortal." The words came out as reproachful without her meaning them to.

"Always."

"I don't think that's the answer, Mick. Last you heard of the cure, it was in your blood. Now you're vampire again and it's gone."

"Maybe it's not within my reach but it exists and I've felt what it can do. That's enough for me."

"Everything happens for a reason. I don't believe that the universe created you only to have you spend eternity fixated on this elusive miracle that you may or may not find… there are greater things in store for you than suffering for what you are. I don't care that we're not equals—I accept what you are. Nothing you tell me will change that."

Mick frowned at her. "You sound like Josef. He thinks my only hope of finding the cure is returning to Europe."

"You almost died the last time you went to Europe. You'd be willing to risk it again?"

"If it means finding the cure, yes. It's about more than just being mortal again, Beth. It's about getting another chance."

Her eyes were a hard, icy blue when she spoke. "I don't think you should. Whatever's left for you in Europe… the price you have to pay is not worth it."

"What if I told you there's another way? What if told you the cure is right here, in L.A.?"

"How could you know that when everyone connected with the cure is in France?" She pulled her hand back. "I know how much you want this but chasing possibilities that aren't there? Isn't that road better left unexplored?"

He almost laughed. "You think I'm going crazy, think I'm letting myself be led on, but the cure is in L.A. and I'll you tell you how I know." He paused to smile at her dubious expression. "You asked me about Europe the other night. You said more had happened than I had told you and you were right. That's where all this started—"

Beth's cell rang and she held up a finger to silence Mick. She turned slightly when she answered the call, not noticing the way Mick raked his hand through his hair in frustration.

"You need to go?" he guessed glumly when she had hung up.

"_We_ need to go," she corrected. "They found another body at the local college."

- - o - -

_2 hours earlier… _

It was early, no later than 6 a.m., but the campus was already beginning to hum with life. A thin crowd of students milled about, some breakfasting, others relaxing. Classes had not yet begun and the atmosphere was light, friendly. In another hour or so, they would begin to stress out about assignments and examinations, but for now, most of them were content to spend the time idling.

Charlie lurked on the outskirts of it all, cursing himself for his stupidity. He was tired, hungry, and unkempt and he had just wanted to return to the comfort of his dorm. But in his eagerness, he had forgotten to consider that he couldn't just waltz in at any hour without raising questions. If he had been thinking straight, he would have been prudent and waited until nightfall, but because he was cranky and impatient, he decided to take a chance and sneak in. He had to force his mind out of its sluggish state and into focus, but before he knew it, he had made it to his dorm, unnoticed.

Physically, the dorm was just as he had left it several days prior, but mentally, the vibe of the room seemed to have changed. He couldn't say why but he was surprised that there was barely any disturbance of things, perhaps because he had changed in his time away and so, in turn, expected everything else to change as well. As Charlie wandered the room confusedly, a crush of memories brushed the edge of his consciousness, each clamoring for dominance. At the shelf, Charlie ran his hand over the spines of his textbooks and with that simple action, the vision bore down on him.

_Charlie scrunches his forehead in thought as he skims the fine print on the textbook page. He taps his highlighter against the corner of the open textbook, lost in thought and trying to make sense of what he just read. Just when he thinks he's beginning to understand, the door creaks open and Scott enters, effectively cutting off his train of thought. _

_"Hey, Charlie," he greets, obviously in a good mood. _

_"What were you up to now?" he grumps in reply. _

_"Oh come on, Charlie, you're not still mad, are you?" _

_"I just want to know what it is you're doing that you're never around anymore… you disappear for days and I'm the one who has to cover for you. I'm tired of it. The least you could do is tell me…" _

_"I've already told you Charlie, this isn't some secret that I can just give away to whomever I please. If you're ever ready for it, I will tell you." _

_"Then I won't cover for you anymore." _

_"Come on, Charlie, don't be spiteful. It doesn't become you." _

_"This may be all fun and games for you, but because of your fun and games, Liz is mad at me and won't talk to me." _

_"So that's what all this is about." Scott nods knowingly. "Trouble in 'paradise.'" _

_"It's a serious matter," Charlie says crossly. "And I meant what I said—I'm not covering for you anymore." _

_"I'm a vampire," Scott replies simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. _

_Charlie sighs and rubs his temples. "Be serious, Scott." _

_Scott doesn't respond but as Charlie watches, his eyes pale into a frosty blue and still-growing fangs jut out over his bottom lip. Charlie's hands fly to his mouth and his stifled scream comes out as an odd gasp. _

Charlie stumbled forward unsteadily and had to grab the desk for support. Scott had mentioned something about "scenting the past" so it wasn't that that had surprised him. It had been the intensity of the memory, so real that he had almost thought he had jumped back in time. What did it mean, anyway, that he had seen that particular piece of the past? Was it a sign that was cluing him in on something he was supposed to do? He needed guidance, but he couldn't think of a single person he could go to. He wished someone was here, anyone, even if it wasn't Scott. In the short amount of time they had had, Scott had barely imparted any knowledge to him.

The cumulative exhaustion of the past few days began to catch up to him and he drowsed off. Before he could slip into complete slumber, he was awakened by the click of the door. It swung inwards slowly, cautiously, and for a moment, Charlie dared to hope. But the figure who stepped through the door was short and fair-skinned with gleaming, straight, blond hair.

"_Charlie_? Oh my god!" She rushed up to him, but stopped short of colliding into him when she registered his appearance. "Where have you _been_? And what happened? You're covered in blood!"

"It's a long story… You don't know how glad I am to see you." Charlie reached for her, but she sidestepped him. His arm faltered and fell limply to his side. "Don't be mad," he pleaded.

She slapped him. "Do you know how worried I was? And what about all the people I had to lie to? You know I hate lying. When you said you were going on an 'adventure' with Scott, you didn't mention that you would be gone so long."

Her voice had grown increasingly louder and with each pitch it rose, the color in her cheeks darkened. Without realizing it, Charlie licked his lips. She smelled… delicious. And he was hungry, so hungry. His first and only feeding had been two mornings ago and at the rate he had been surviving, that hadn't lasted him long. With lightning-quick reflexes, he seized her and held her securely in his arms. He felt the slight pressure of his fangs and knew that he had vamped out. He saw Liz's lips part into a wide "O," but in his trancelike state, he didn't hear her scream. He smoothed his fingers over the pulse on her throat and caressed the area lovingly with his thumb.

_She always was beautiful_, he thought dreamily as he stretched his mouth open and positioned the angle of his fangs. A second later, he dipped his head down and he thrilled at the ease with which her flesh was pierced. She convulsed violently but within seconds, her movements slowed and her voice spluttered out. Her expressive eyes stared ahead, flickering with weak life.

- - o - -

There was blood, blood everywhere. Thin streams of it trailed along the floor, to the bed, where the dead girl lay. The substance was smeared on her neck, her face, her arms, and the sheets on which she rested were a dark mess. But her head was intact and her chest had no wounds. Mortal, but definitely the work of a vampire. Judging from the barely perceptible amount of decay, Mick guessed that it must have been a fledgling. He stole a glance at Beth, but she had sensed his watchful eyes on her and she hid whatever disgust she might have felt.

"Do you think it's related to the_ other_ murders?" Beth queried, voicing the question on both their minds.

"Only one way to find out." Mick wandered a few feet closer to the body and closed his eyes as he sniffed.

_A boy—one he's seen before—drinks from the girl. She twitches in pain but as the seconds pass, her jerky movements become less and less noticeable. When she stills, she goes limp and her already dull eyes begin to flutter. It is then that the boy suddenly pulls away. His too-fast movements must have torn something because blood is gushing from her and pooling on the floor. _

_"Liz!" He lifts her in his arms and a rush of blood spurts out. He babbles hysterically as he trips towards one of the twin-sized beds and lays her down. "I don't know what came over me! …I was just so hungry… I didn't know what I was doing," he sobs. "I'm sorry, Liz, I'm so sorry…" _

_The terror in her eyes doesn't subside but her fingers curl together feebly and her lips curve into a small smile. _

Mick stared at the dead girl with surprise. Had she actually _forgiven_ the vamp even as she was dying? He had thought… how could… it just wasn't possible. Monsters never earned such readily given forgiveness…

"So? What did you see?"

Mick started; he hadn't heard Beth walk up behind him. "I don't know about related, but I recognize the vamp that did this. He was one of the victims at another scene a few days ago. He's only a fledgling."

Beth eyed the bed and shuddered. "Well he obviously knew what he was doing. He fed from her and left her on the bed… he left her to _die_."

"It never ends well," Mick murmured.

"What?"

"It never ends well," Mick repeated slowly. "They were together. He lost control and killed her."

"Together?" She looked at Mick, then at the body. "Did she know he was a…?"

Mick shrugged. "My guess is that they were together before he became a vamp. But whether he told her what he was, I can't say."

"Why did he drink from _her_? This is a college campus… there are so many other people he could have chosen. Why his own girlfriend?"

"He's just a kid. He's stupid, new at this. That's his excuse… What's mine?"

Beth stared at him blankly. "For _what_?"

"You remember," he replied softly. One hand stretched toward her.

Understanding dawned on her face. "Mick, _no_." She caught his hand and held on tightly. "It was a slip anyone could have made. And everything turned out _fine_."

"But what if it hadn't? So many things could have gone wrong… What makes what I did any different than what he did?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "But just because you're scared, it doesn't mean you can't trust."

He shook his head. "I wish I could believe you."

"Mick—"

"Mick, Beth!" Luc appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. They jumped, hands falling away, but Luc hadn't missed the gesture. "Did I interrupt something?"

"_No_," they replied at the same time. Beth blushed. "So you, uh, got my message."

He looked at her oddly. "Well, yes… that's how I knew to come."

"Right, of course."

"Have you guys found anything?"

"Well—"

Mick cleared his throat. "No, actually. We just got here."

Luc sighed. "The M.O.'s are different , obviously, but I think there's a connection. I just can't prove it yet."

"Why don't you and Beth take a look around? I'll be more efficient on my own."

"If you're sure," Luc agreed. "Okay with you, Beth?"

She forced a smile. "Yeah, that's fine. Let's go." She lingered momentarily and shot Mick a disapproving frown before hurrying to catch up with Luc.


	9. 8: The Art of Forgetting

It's been three weeks since I last updated, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten the fic! School, as usual, has been super busy so time's been limited for writing. I hope not too much of the plot has slipped your memory, though it's completely my fault if it has. As usual, thanks for the review on the previous chapter and I always love to hear from any of you!

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_Cause I'm acting as if this blue sky's never gonna rain down on me  
And I'm telling myself this true love's never gonna leave me lonely  
Unless there's something I missed I'm acting as if_

_Sara Evans, _"As If"

**  
Chapter 8** – _The Art of Forgetting_

_7 months earlier…  
Los Angeles_

The old warehouse was deathly quiet and seemingly lifeless but Mick couldn't help glancing back periodically, unable to shake his unease. He didn't realize how skittish he was until Beth tugged his hand lightly but impatiently. Something about their being here felt wrong. At times, he thought he heard a low cacophony of murmurs and rushing air but just as quickly as the sounds reached him, they would fade away into silence.

"Mick, come on!" she hissed. "We don't have time to stand around. We're not even supposed to be here."

On impulse, he whispered back, "Then why are we here? Why are we doing this?"

He was pleased to see that he had gotten her attention. She stopped and turned, an uncomprehending frown on her face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean last week, it was the occult vandalisms, the week before it was gang violence, and now you're trying to bust this drug ring. You've been playing with fire. You're still playing with fire."

Her eyes flickered downwards. "You think I'm being reckless, think I should know better," she said quietly.

"Yes," he agreed after a moment's hesitation.

"Why now? Why bring this up now? I've always been this way…"

"I'm just worried about you. Since you've started working on stories again, you've only been covering the big cases, the crimes that involve networks of people."

"Since Josh's death, you mean. Just say it. Say he's dead if that's what you mean. You don't have to shield me from hearing the words. I can handle it, I've been handling it."

"You keep saying you're okay but I don't think you are. I think you still feel guilty about what happened… or maybe you feel guilty about what didn't happen. I don't know what it is exactly but I know you've been throwing yourself into these stories and throwing yourself into stopping these criminals."

"These criminals need to be stopped. They don't care who they hurt, who they kill. So we have to care about putting them away and making sure they don't have that chance."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean you're not doing this to avenge Josh, to prove that _something_ could have been done to save him."

"I have nothing to prove," she insisted, before whirling around and stomping deeper into the shadows.

"Beth, wait!" Mick hurried after her and caught her arm. He was shocked to see the moisture in her eyes, but he continued to speak, undeterred. "I just wanted to say that I know how you feel. I know what guilt feels like. I've been living with it so long that sometimes, it feels like it's natural, like it's a part of me. You couldn't have saved him. Neither of us could have. I accept that now, and you should too."

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I've been trying to tell myself that every day for the past month? There's no magic button I can push to make things uncomplicated. So yes, I feel guilty. You took a cure for vampirism and everything was better. But you have to understand, things are just a little bit harder for me. There's no cure I can take to get rid of the guilt." She sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. "I'm sorry… that was cruel and unnecessary."

"You're right though. Now that I'm human, I'm standing by the choice I made more than ever. I'll never forget what it felt like to wake up and realize nothing would ever be the same again, that I had been betrayed. It's not something I'd wish upon Josh."

"Look, I know you've been taking care of me and looking out for me lately. And I let you because you've given me space to grieve and to make the mistakes I needed to make. I'm grateful for that, I am, but I need you to trust me when I say back off. I _will_ get through this; I just need to find my own way to do it."

Mick shook his head. "The way you throw yourself into trying to expose these people… it scares me Beth. I'm just worried that you won't have a chance to find your own way through it. These people don't play games—they'll kill you if they knew what you were doing."

A slow smile spread across her face and she laughed. "Do you really think I'm that far gone? I want to live—"

"Hush," Mick said suddenly, placing a finger on her lips. The soft whooshing that had come and gone intensified, but when it disappeared this time, there were echoing footsteps instead of silence. "Someone's coming." He pushed Beth behind a rickety stack of crates and slipped in behind her, holding her close. In some distant room, a shout sounded and was followed by a flurry of noises that diffused and drew nearer to them.

_"We'd better take inventory and make sure everything's in order."_

_"Hear, hear. If Richard discovers anything missing later, we're sure to get the brunt of it."_

_"He'll probably think we're the leak too."_

_"And it'd be the end of us too."_

When their voices moved away and faded, Mick loosened his embrace and stepped back. "We'd better find a way out of here," he murmured.

Beth didn't answer; instead, she stared at him incredulously. "How did you know they were coming?"

Mick was startled by the question. "Didn't you hear them?"

"No…" Her eyes widened in realization. "Mick, are you…?"

"No!" he cut her off quickly. "It was just dumb luck."

"But—" A crash sounded in a nearby room and then silence followed by a rushed patter of feet.

Mick guided Beth through the semidarkness. "Come on, this is our chance." He focused on finding his way out and pretended not to notice the way she kept looking at him. But his heart pounded loudly and as he took calming breaths, he thought he could catch a slight whiff of blood. Then it was gone and he was simply a bundle of nerves again.

- - o - -

_Versailles__, __France_

Coraline paced the perimeter of the room like a caged animal. "How could he do this to me, Philippe? Is he even _allowed_ to demand that I take the cure?"

Philippe sighed from his seat at the room's center. "Why don't you sit? There's no point in tiring yourself over the matter; it's already been done."

"He didn't even warn me," she fumed. "He just summoned me and dropped his judgment on me! As if I was some errant maid and not a member of this family!"

"He could have decreed something much worse, you know that. This is generous of him."

Coraline scowled at him. "Of course you would say that; you haven't been human since at least two centuries ago."

"That's exactly why I wouldn't survive such a fate. I wouldn't know how to be human. Frankly, I don't remember how to be anything but a vampire. But you, you've been mortal for the past year. I thought you'd be an old hand at this by now."

"That isn't the point, Philippe. This isn't the States. The stakes are much higher here and I can't afford to be at a disadvantage."

He eyed her warily. "What are you planning, Coraline? We all gave Jean our words… don't make us liars. He'll have my head. You don't want that, do you?"

"Don't you understand? It's dangerous to be a fallen vampire on the Continent! How long before _les anciennes familles_ learn of my return, of what I'm being subjected to? How long before Jean has them watching my every move?"

Philippe shook with laughter, his amusement so great he almost upset the ornate table before him. "I forgot how fun it was to have you around." He wiped tears from his eyes. "The times have changed. All the old families live independently now. We don't need other the way we did in the old days. Even within families, blood ties aren't what they used to be. You're proof of that."

"Being a mortal here and being a mortal in the States… it's different," she insisted. She dropped herself onto a cushioned seat opposite Philippe. "Jean isn't being generous—he doesn't trust me." She reached for one of the gold goblets arrayed on the table and raised it to her lips.

"Coraline, no!" Philippe tried to wrest the goblet from her but she turned and downed the contents.

The coppery sweet taste made her teeth ache as her fangs struggled to break free. The rich scent tantalized her senses but when she swallowed, the liquid seemed to clot and stick to the walls of her throat, all sweetness gone. She gagged and the goblet clattered across the tabletop. Blood spun out across the surface and dripped to the floor in rapid rivulets.

"What were you _thinking_?" Philippe turned to the girl standing outside the door. "Esmé! Get this cleaned up." He turned back to Coraline. "You have to stop testing the cure! You're mortal now. If you don't start acting it, you'll get yourself killed!"

"I know I'm mortal." Coraline coughed heavily. "You said before that you wouldn't know how to be human. Well this is how. You act as if you're immortal until one day, you wake up and realize you're not. That's how you remember what it's like to be mortal."

- - o - -

_2 days later…  
Los Angeles_

The sunlight was unbearable. It spilled across the floor and crept into corners, illuminating swirls of dust. Still, Mick kept the blinds up, hoping that the agonizing warmth and the blinding brightness would burn away his desires and bring him back to sanity. His hunger was insatiable. He had consumed almost all the blood that he had had left and still his fangs thirsted for more and refused to retract. He had regained some semblance of control earlier but Beth had arrived then, demanding entry. Seconds after he had scented her, his control slipped away and he was fully vamped out.

"Mick, I know you're in there. This avoiding me business is starting to get ridiculous. We need to talk!" She had been outside for the past hour, shouting at him through the door. It took all his self control to root himself by the windows and not let her in, though his instinct fought against his choice.

"I know the cure must have worn off," she continued. "And I know what you must look like but I don't care. All that matters is that you're a friend in need and I want to help."

Mick stepped out of the sunlight and felt his features begin to normalize. He took one more step, then another and after that, another. He kept walking until he was leaning against the cool metal of the door, through which he could feel Beth's presence. He heard the calm, rhythmic beating of her heart and smelled the sweet blood coursing through her veins, giving her life. Even through the barrier of the door, he could tell that she wasn't afraid; in place of that, there was an aura of confidence and compassion that echoed in her voice when she spoke.

"You can sit in there and hide all day, but that won't be enough to send me away. I'll stay here for as long as I need to and I promise you, I'm not leaving until you open that door and we have a good long talk."

The last of his vampirism concealed itself and Mick began to breathe again. His hand hovered hesitantly above the door and he stole a quick look at the monitor before he made his choice. The door fell in slowly and there she was, mouth opened and clearly prepared to launch another volley of words. "You shouldn't be here," he said hollowly.

"You look good," she replied, ignoring his greeting. She smiled at him, but when she looked inside, her lips curved downwards. "What happened?" She came in and her feet crunched against the shards of glass beneath her. She wandered into the kitchen gingerly and sifted through the piles of empty blood bags crumpled on the counter and around the sink.

"Pretty disgusting, huh?"

"No… no, it's not disgusting." She looked up at him, blue eyes sad. "I'm so sorry, Mick."

"What for?"

"You wanted this so badly and you are so deserving of it. I'm sorry it couldn't last. But I wish you'd promise me something anyway."

"What?"

"That things won't change between us because of this."

"It's an impossible promise."

"It doesn't have to be."

"I'm going to Europe."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then hurriedly closed the distance between them before he realized what she was doing. "Then I'm coming with you."

"No, you can't. I won't allow it." He stepped backwards, away from her. "It's too dangerous. Not just because of me, but just because it's Europe."

She seized his hands. "I face danger every day. I'm not afraid of whatever's in Europe.

"You should be. There are a lot of old families in Europe and they live by different rules, rules that were passed down as tradition. I don't care what you say, Beth. You're not coming."

"It's dangerous for you too, but you're going," she challenged.

"When Coraline was taken, I did nothing. She had just given me the cure and I abandoned her. I need to find her, I need answers."

"Liar," she said softly. "I'm here for you, Mick." She dropped his hands and wrapped her arms around him. "I wish you'd acknowledge that." She leaned her head against his chest and half breathed, half sighed deeply. "I wish you'd let me be here for you like you were there for me."

"I know you're here." His hands fluttered uncertainly before circling around her waist lightly. "Knowing it is enough."

"It's not enough for me."

He buried his face in her shoulder and sighed. "It's safer that way."

"Then I hate being safe."

But Mick didn't hear her. He had suddenly noticed the vein throbbing beneath her skin, running her neck to her shoulder. The beast in him shook off the precarious hold he had had on it and sniffed appreciatively. It would be so easy to break the skin and access the delicious meal she offered. His mouth inched open and his fangs re-emerged slowly. When she shivered, he shivered too. The pressure of his fangs against her skin increased as they continued to elongate. A trickle of blood slipped from the tip and all rationality was eclipsed by the needy hunger. He sank his fangs into the vein and relished the way the warm, silky smoothness filled his mouth and slid down his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he had had such a feast.

"Mick, Mick!" Her voice sounded small and faraway. He kept drinking, not registering the fear in her voice until she slumped forward.

Fear? Fear! He pulled back abruptly, shame coloring his face. What had he done? He pushed Beth away roughly. "Go!" he shouted, without looking her.

She didn't hesitate, didn't even stop to look at him. She was gone as soon as he had let go of her and realized his mistake. For the rest of the day, he wandered the apartment listlessly, the scent of her fear lingering around him, refusing to let him rest. When he climbed into his freezer at the break of dawn, the scent followed him and seemed to freeze in place. He didn't know how he fell asleep, but when he did, it was with images of her face flashing through his mind.


	10. 9: Trying Times

Thanks so much for all the response to the last chapter. I'm just glad you didn't all forget the fic like I worried you would! Anyway, enjoy the update and the new episode of _Moonlight_; I know I will! Thank you for reading and I hope you'll continue to leave feedback.

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

**Note:** Small, small (one word in the entire chapter) usage of foul language

* * *

_Life's like a novel with the end ripped out  
The edge of a canyon with only one way down  
Take what you're given before it's gone  
And start holdin' on, keep holdin' on_

_ Rascal Flatts, _"Stand"

**  
Chapter 9** – _Trying Times_

Beth lifted her hair and twisted her neck so she could get a better reflection of the faded scars on the side of her throat. She didn't know why she had been so surprised that he still felt guilty about it. This was Mick she was talking about; of course something as simple as time wasn't reason enough for him to forgive and forget. She just liked to think that Mick had changed for the better in the past months. But then again, it was wishful thinking like that that had gotten her into this awkward position with him to begin with.

But whatever her reservations towards Mick were, Beth couldn't help but be fascinated with his slip. It was one of the few times she had witnessed him losing control. After the desert, she had learned that bite marks made for very unusual scars. And not in just the physical sense either. When she—or anyone else for that matter—touched it, she always felt a slight discomfort and the overwhelming urge to squirm. But when Mick touched it, tingles and warmth danced on her skin. At least that was the case with the scars on her wrist.

The scars on her neck seemed to follow completely different rules. She could touch it and besides trembling at the memory, she would feel nothing. On the one instance Mick had touched it, she had had felt a white hot pain that took her breath away. She didn't know if the scars reacted to touch or to the memories associated with them, but either way, she was pretty sure Mick was unaware of this particular side effect. She longed to ask him but she knew he would take it the wrong way and instead of getting answers, she would only get more self-loathing berates.

"What are you doing?" Luc stood in the doorway of her bedroom, eyeing her questioningly.

Beth started, blonde curls tumbling free of her hold. She had been so engrossed in her musings that she hadn't heard him approaching from the other room. "Luc! I thought you were making yourself at home."

He shrugged. "I was, but one makes for boring company."

Beth laughed. "I can't imagine how you keep yourself entertained when you're home then."

"Maybe I don't." He grinned. "Maybe I'm one of those secret slobs who go home and collapse on the couch."

"Now there's a thought. Certainly something I'd like to see."

"Who knows? Maybe you will," he replied mysteriously. "But enough about me. I want to hear about you. Tell me everything that happened in the last five years."

"Everything? My, aren't you ambitious?"

"Nah. Mostly I'm just curious about what the deal is with you and Mick."

"There is no deal," she answered crossly. "We're just friends."

"Really? He doesn't seem to like me very much."

"Don't be a child, Luc. Mick likes you just fine."

"I wouldn't have asked but today at the college, I felt like I was interrupting something between the two of you. Like a lover's quarrel."

Beth felt her face heat up. "So we disagree on a few things and we fight about it. That doesn't make us an item."

"Well you know what they say." Luc smiled wickedly. "Opposites attract."

"Shut up!" Beth hurled a pillow at him, laughing. "I'm attracted to him and I've entertained the idea of us being together, I admit it. But it's complicated… it's just easier to be friends You happy now?"

"Naturally the next thing I'd ask is why is it complicated? History perhaps?" he asked suggestively.

"Funny, Luc, very funny."

He held up his hands in a truce. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I just wanted to know where I might stand in all this."

"You could have just asked."

"I guess I'm just a figure-it-out kind of guy."

Beth snorted. "You wouldn't be the first."

"Tell you what," he said suddenly. "I don't know about you but I'm starved. Why don't I make it up to you with dinner?"

"You treating?"

"You know it."

"Then I'm game."

- - o - -

It was date night, something they used to do back in New York, before the craze had started. Fiona smiled reminiscently into the mirror, slipping on a pair of silver dangle earrings as she did. _Perfect_, she thought. Normally she would have tossed on a pair of jeans coupled with a stylish top but tonight, nothing was too extravagant. It was the first time in almost a year since Sam had remembered and bothered with date night; perhaps there was hope for him yet. As far as she was concerned, even something as small as that was cause for celebration.

"Hey." Sam slipped up behind her and circled his arms lightly around her shoulders. "You look beautiful."

Her cheeks pinked with pleasure. "Thanks." She twisted in his embrace to look up at him. "You ready?"

"Yep." His arms fell away and he held out a hand to her. "Shall we?"

- - o - -

The warm, honey-yellow glow of the lights strung along the dock bobbed up and down in time to the gentle motion of the ocean breeze, illuminating the way for the two figures strolling down at a languid pace.

"L.A. been treating you good so far?" Sam asked, speaking quietly so as not to break the mood of the evening.

"Yeah, I think it has. Of course I miss Hannah and I can't help worrying about her but things are starting to shape up now." She smiled at him. "I'm glad we came here."

"I'm sorry about the craziness lately. I know I promised things would change but old habits die hard…"

"Lately?" Fiona made a face. "Try the last ten months."

He grinned sheepishly. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I was so caught up with revenge that I never got the chance to say thanks for sticking around. I appreciate it."

"I know you do." She intertwined her fingers with his. "But it's nice to hear you say it anyway."

He stopped and gazed into her dark eyes seriously. "I love you, Fee. Don't ever doubt that."

Her heart thudded and she felt suddenly lightheaded. "I love you too, Sam."

He rested his forehead against hers. "There's something I have to do tonight."

"Sam!" She pulled away, disgusted. "What happened to, 'Sorry for the craziness'? Did you forget so fast? Or is it more empty words?"

"Shh." He pulled her back and caressed her cheek, causing her to shiver despite her anger. "This is the last vamp, I promise. Just give me a few days. It'll all be over soon. Then we can go back to New York. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I know you feel guilty about leaving your family and I'm sure Hannah misses her big sister."

Fiona was silent and refused to meet his eyes. Finally, she sighed. "We can't keep living like this, Sam. I know they're dangerous and I know Sassy died because of one, but it's still murder… I worry that someone will find us out if we keep doing this. They're going to think we're crazy."

"I know, Fee, I know. But it's just this one more. One more and I'll never have to kill another one again."

"You _promise_?"

"I promise."

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okay," she whispered.

"Come on. Let's go home."

"Home," she echoed. The word sat oddly on her tongue. "Home," she breathed again. Still, the word sounded foreign to her, almost like a mockery.

- - o - -

Josef had not had a good day. All day he had been dealing with crashed computers and misplaced account files. He called the company, threatening to sue them, but it did little to speed along the process of diagnosing the problem. Finally, late afternoon, the problem reversed itself. Computers whirred to life and missing files reappeared. The company had been as surprised as Josef and told him that it must have been a glitch. They would look into it, they promised.

But Josef had believed otherwise and ordered a thorough check of everything. Nothing was out of place and it was almost as if the incident had never happened. Now, a few hours later, Josef scowled, still preoccupied with the matter. Everything happened for a reason and until he found that reason, he refused to drop the search. It had been a long day though and with dawn approaching, he was looking forward to putting a few hours into his freezer.

As soon as he saw Marcus, his head of security, rush down the hall towards him, he knew it was not to be. "Mr. Kostan!"

Josef sighed. "Yes, Marcus?"

"It's the east wing, sir." Marcus stopped short of colliding with him. "Something's happened."

_East wing?_ It took a moment for it to register and when it did, Josef stiffened. "You mean the freshies' wing?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Show me." The two vampires made their way through the winding halls to the east wing. There, the smoke alarm had been silenced but continued to flash incessantly. Heavy white smoke poured out of the doorways in thick clouds, obscuring the view. Josef sniffed the air cautiously. "Was there a fire?" he asked, puzzled.

"No, sir. Smoke bombs. Lots of them."

Josef nodded and started down the long hall, stopping at each room and peering inside. By the time he reached the other end, his eyes and nostrils were stinging from the continual onslaught of acrid smoke. To his right, the side door was open, swinging in the breeze and glass smashed. A cold wind rushed in through the opening and blew away the whiteness temporarily. No sooner had the wind died than the smoke refilled the area, like a fluttering white curtain falling back down to stillness. But in the split second that the air had been clear, Josef had seen the wall and the words painted on it with dripping red paint: _RUN FOR YOUR LIFE._

Josef reached out and came in contact with the cool wetness. His hand came away slick and coated deep red. A low growl of revulsion rose in his throat. How dare the imbecile who had done this. Once he got his hands on the upstart, he would be sorry he had ever heard of Josef Kostan, he vowed. Josef shuffled forward for a closer inspection and felt something shift beneath his feet. He crouched down and waved the smoke away easily. Around him, the floor was blanketed with shredded photos. He sifted through the glossy pieces and that was when the realization hit him. They were photos of him. In a flash, his eyes frosted over and his fangs elongated.

"Marcus!" Josef called out, rising abruptly.

Marcus appeared beside him in less than a second. "Yes, sir?"

"Where are the girls?" he demanded more roughly than he had meant to.

"With Melinda I expect. They were pretty shaken when we got here."

"Tell Melinda to have them in the main room in ten minutes. I want to have a talk with them when I'm through with this."

"As you wish."

Josef turned back and the open door caught his eye again. Looked like he was going to have to rethink security around here. He clenched his fist, already running through a list of punishments he inflict on the wretch who had been foolish enough to cross him and his girls.


	11. 10: Goodbye

I'm almost afraid to emerge from my hiding place here... No, I'm kidding, but I am sorry that I haven't updated in so long. I did want to get this chapter written last weekend but then my AP was this past Thursday so I had to study, study, study. Thank goodness it's over. I also want to say that no matter what happens with _Moonlight_ (I completely believe that it will get its second season, one way or another) I am going to continue with this fic and see it through to the end. So thank you reading and I hope you'll continue to enjoy the story.

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_She's the giver I wish I could be  
And the stealer of the covers  
She's a picture in my wallet  
Of my unborn children's mother  
She's the hand that I'm holding  
When I'm on my knees and praying  
She's the answer to my prayer  
And she's the song I'm playing_

_ Brad Paisley, _"She's Everything"

**  
Chapter 10** – _Goodbye_

_7 months earlier…_

2 days, 4 hours, and 36 minutes. In his mind's eye, he saw the needle-thin hand ticking by all too quickly. 55… 56… 57… 58… 59… 60. It was 37 minutes now. 2 days, 4 hours, and 37 minutes. Not that he was counting. But it was hard not to when she seemed to haunt him. He saw her everywhere, saw the soft blonde hair framing determined, lively blue eyes and stubborn, sensuous lips. In the silence, he heard the echoes of her laughter and the rhythmic beating of her very living heart. And every time he thought he saw her, he heard the way that same heartbeat sped up ever so slightly when they were in close proximity and faster still when she had realized that he had lost control.

After the first night, he stopped reaching for the phone and trying to work up the courage to call her. She would be safer if he didn't try to insinuate himself back into her life. Ironically, after he had tasted her again, the blood lust had subsided. He had a fair amount of morgue blood left but when he tried to feed, he felt almost repulsed and could barely keep from gagging. He had almost called her then, desperate to find a sanctuary in her voice amid the building misery. But he stopped himself midway through dialing her number and told himself that it was better this way, that leaving this unresolved was what was best for Beth. So why did he still jump every time the phone rang? Why did he keep seizing it like a lifeline even though he knew to expect disappointment? Or what about when he heard a sound in the hall? Why did he run to his door, gaze fixated to his security monitor, imagining Beth on it?

Mick knew he was in bad shape and he knew this was no way to live but he didn't feel particularly stirred to break the cycle. He wasn't suicidal, he wasn't, but he _had_ lost the will to care, to fight for himself. What did it matter what happened to him now that Beth had walked out of his life and left him to slip back into darkness? It wasn't that he didn't know how to live in the dark, it was that he didn't want to. He had tasted sunshine and normalcy, had gotten drunk on hope, but now it was all gone. All that was left was the hangover.

2 days, 5 hours, and 4 minutes. That was when the heard the clicks of his lock falling open. He whirled around, lips parted and throat closed. "Beth." His vision swam for a moment and when it cleared he saw Josef standing at the door, pushing it closed carefully.

"Nope, sorry. Just grouchy old me."

Mick growled and nearly rushed at Josef in frustration. He had to turn around before the urge ebbed away, leaving him feeling more drained and fatigued than he had a few seconds ago. "Get out." Emotionless, monotone.

The older vamp stared at him disdainfully, blatantly ignoring him. "Were you planning on telling me you reverted? Or did you think clairvoyance is a vampire ability in this addled state of yours?"

"Go. Away. Josef," he hissed forcefully. He felt his eyes begin to change.

"Know how I found out?" Josef continued, unrelenting. "Beth came to find me, almost in tears. You want to tell me what happened?"

Mick refused to answer. He stared ahead, into the shadows, counting the slats in the blinds. Maybe he should have left them up and open after all.

"You're pathetic," Josef spat. "You bit her, fed from her. Admit it and move on."

The fog in his head lifted. Adrenaline raced through him and this time, Mick did rush at Josef. The two vampires collided into the wall with a resounding crash and Mick kept Josef pinned against the hard, still-trembling surface. "_Beth is not a common freshie_." His breaths came out fast and labored. "It is a big deal. She deserves better than this. She's… she isn't… I… I can't just hurt her like that and forget about it. I'm not you."

"Forgetting and moving on are two different things, Mick." Josef shook Mick off easily and straightened his suit. "I'm not asking you to forget her, I'm asking you to move on. What good is your wallowing in self-hatred doing anyone? None. Get it together. You're 85. Start acting it."

Mick sighed and rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "I'm going to Europe," he said finally.

"Yeah, Beth told me that too," Josef replied flatly.

Mick took in his expression warily. "What?"

"What do you think you're going to find there, Mick?"

"I'm not looking for anything. I just need the closure. You once told me I had to stop carrying Coraline around with me. This is the only way I can let go of her."

"This isn't letting go, Mick. This is running back to her. Because you can't handle what happened with Beth."

"I need to do this, Josef! I can't move on knowing she's out there and knowing she could reappear in my life and turn things upside down again."

Josef narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to find the cure."

"I'm not looking for the cure."

Josef snorted. "That's bullshit." Mick opened his mouth to speak but Josef didn't give him a chance. "Did you even think this through? Did you think about how you're going to feed? Where you're going to stay? You don't have any contacts in Europe. You'll die before you find her."

"Then help me," Mick challenged.

"Mick, you're not going to Europe. It's not going to give you closure, it's going to make you a mess."

"Josef, please."

"Think about your past with her. Do you really want to go through all that again? Do you really want to put _Beth_ through all that?"

They stood there staring at each other for a few minutes, Josef calm, Mick breathing agitatedly. "I'm going to Europe," Mick repeated quietly. "With your help or not."

Josef sighed. "Yeah, I figured you would, stubborn fool that you are."

"So will you help me?"

"I'm crazy for agreeing to this, but yes, I will."

Mick hesitated before he spoke again. "Can you… would you tell Beth for me?"

Josef shook his head pityingly. "That's something you should do yourself."

"Josef…"

"I'll help you once you're in Europe, not before. This was your decision, so either you suck it up and tell her or don't let her know at all. Your choice."

- - o - -

Every time Mick stepped into an airport, he knew why vampires avoided the place, why they avoided flying. All the people, the long flights—it had a way of inducing vampire claustrophobia. He hefted what little luggage he had in his hands and looked around. Well this was it. He had gotten what he wanted. Question was, why did it feel like he was making a mistake? He trudged toward the gates slowly, trying to delay the inevitable. He suddenly didn't want to go, didn't feel ready to leave. And that was when he saw her.

"Beth." She was picking at her nails and he would have smiled at that if he hadn't been so choked up.

She looked up and smiled when she saw him. "Got your message." She held up her phone.

"I didn't think you'd come." He could have hit himself for almost stumbling over the words and for the idiotic expression on his face.

"Did you really think I would let you leave without saying goodbye?" She waited until he was closer, then reached out and touched his arm. "You mean a lot to me, Mick, more than you think. I can't just sit back and let you leave without making things right between us."

"I thought you'd want to. Thought you'd find it preferable to seeing me again."

"Of course not. Don't sell yourself short."

He eyed her shoulder critically, trying to get a look at the wound. "How are you doing?"

She pressed down on his arm reassuringly. "I'm doing fine. It's healing."

Mick pushed her hair away and started at how it looked. Closed admittedly, but red and angry. He looked at her, dismayed. "Healing? Beth, it's livid." He brushed a thumb over the wound, pulling back in shame when she flinched and gasped, evidently in pain. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out, horrified.

"No, I'm sorry." She exhaled slowly. "I didn't mean to do that. It is healing, Mick. I promise. It's just a slow process."

"I can see that."

"Mick, look, I won't deny that I was scared and that I've been avoiding you—I needed time to process what had happened—but everything's fine now. I can't understand what you went through but I know things have been hard for you and I don't blame you for what did. I just wish you'd stop taking on the blame all the time."

"Old habits die hard, I guess." He regarded her doubtfully. "You're sure you're fine?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "But… we are going to have to talk. Maybe not about this but certainly about the whole vampire thing. I have questions, maybe some concerns."

Mick laughed shortly. "Of course you do. When I come back?" he proposed.

"How long are you going to be gone?" she asked softly as if she was afraid of the answer.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Maybe a week, maybe a month. Maybe more."

"You have to come back," she insisted vehemently.

"Of course I will."

"I… I wasn't sure." Her voice faltered. "You're a runner after all. No offense," she added quickly.

"None taken." He stared at her, incredulous. "I think I'm more surprised than anything."

"Yeah, well it's true." She hugged him tightly. "Be safe." She held his face for a moment, then leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him chastely on the lips. "You're still my guardian angel."


	12. 11: One Way Street to Trouble

So I owe you guys a big, big apology. I would have liked to have had the time to write and update a lot sooner but what with APs, then SAT IIs, then final projects, and then finally finals, life took a turn for crazy. But let's get this baby back on course! Chapter 11 is lots of fun and next chapter, we're off to Europe so I hope you guys enjoy. I promise the next chapter won't take so long to get up; it's summer after all! And of course, thank you all so much for the reviews on the last chapter.

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

* * *

_Life ain't always beautiful  
You think you're on your way  
And it's just a dead end road at the end of the day  
But the struggle makes you stronger  
And the changes make you wise_

_ Gary Allan, _"Life Ain't Always Beautiful"

**  
Chapter 11** – _One Way Street to Trouble_

A thick manila envelope landed on the desk with a subdued _thud_. Mick looked up, eyes raised. "What's this?"

"Take a look," Josef replied, seeming somewhat miffed. "Came to the office this morning by express delivery."

Mick bit back a smile as he gently shook out the envelope's contents. The stack of heavy papers slid out easily and fanned across the desk. Mick spread them out further, forehead creasing at what he saw. Several dozen glossy faces stared up at him, some familiar, others not. "Who are they?"

Josef scowled. "You're the P.I., you tell me."

"People connected to you, obviously." Mick lifted a hand in a gesture of helplessness. "But other than that…"

"They're former employees and freshies," Josef interjected impatiently, tone implying that he might as well have been talking to a halfwit.

Mick cocked his head. "Former?" His eyes drifted over the photos but the sparks of recognition refused to become the stories he knew were behind the faces. "Why not current?"

"Because they're dead."

He was met with a bewildered silence then by Mick's strained response. "I don't understand."

He never saw what happened—you often didn't with Josef—but the kaleidoscope of faces he had been staring at was suddenly a shocking expanse of white. Except that it wasn't a pure white like it should have been but a white marred by careful red strokes that dripped with malice and dark intent and demanded attention. _You killed them_. A rush of cold feather-soft sensations rolled down his back and Mick found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the terrible repetition of words. _You killed them, you killed them, you killed them._ Over and over and over again. His gaze flicked to Josef. "Is it true?"

"I don't pretend to be what I'm not, Mick," Josef answered carefully. "And what I'm not is a saint."

"This is serious, Josef!" came the sharp reply.

"And I'm serious," he snapped. "Can't you get it through that thick skull of yours that accidents happen? That they're not an impossibility?"

"Maybe not, but they're easy enough to stage."

"Sometimes you have to. You know what I am. You know what I'm willing to do. It seems to me that you're being unreasonable here."

Mick slumped back, sighing. "You're right. It's just…" He shook his head. "You're making light of things and it's just a little hard not to lose perspective and think of you as a cold-blooded murderer in the face of… _this_." Again he gestured, this time towards the desk's surface.

"But it was cold-blooded murder," Josef contradicted mildly. "You may not like to think of it that way but that's what it is and that's what this fool believes it to be."

"Right, of course." Mick rubbed his temples tiredly. What a long morning it would be. "You sure nothing else strange happened at the mansion since last night?"

"You know as much as I know. The rest is up to you. As for me, I've got work to do."

"Watch your back today, Josef. Someone's out there hunting vamps and I have the feeling you're not a random target."

"Don't worry so much, Mick. Just find the rascal so I can have the pleasure of making him scream."

And so the day began.

- - o - -

Beth tried to stifle a yawn but instead earned an amused glance from Luc, who was several feet away. "Tired already?" he teased. "Didn't you just wake up? I'm almost sure I saw you with a cup of coffee."

"If looks could kill…" she muttered, shooting him a halfhearted glare.

"But they can't," Luc countered with childish glee.

Beth had to remind herself not to gawk at him. How did he act so light, so innocent, seeing the things he must have seen? How did he make five years of change appear to blend into no time and practically no change? She could almost believe he was the same boy she had fallen for in college but she knew time stood still for no one. But if he had become someone dramatically different, he was hiding it well.

"Beth!" Luc snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Did I say something brilliant to strike you speechless?"

"The opposite actually," she retorted, annoyed by the possibility that he had caught her staring.

"Well don't be sleepy. We're going now and you're going to need to be awake for that."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Do you know how much I could have gotten done in the hour that we've been down here?" she complained.

"Ah, so it was boredom, not sleepiness."

"It was," she agreed, not at all sorry. "Crime calls and I'm here watching you fill out paperwork."

"Then it's a good thing I've got something to make it up to you by."

"I've already eaten," she reminded him. "Remember that cup of coffee?"

"This is better than food—it's a body."

"You know me so well," she laughed. "Excuse me a sec." She picked up the buzzing phone beside her. "It's my editor. She must have heard about the body too."

"Morning, Mo."

"Beth, where are you?"

"Down at the station with a cop friend. I told you about him—he's the one that flew in from New York."

"Well bring him along if you must but I've got a story for you."

"If this is related to the serial killer, we're already on it."

"Oh no, for you I've got something much bigger."

"But Maureen, I—"

"No buts. I want you on this, and besides, you'll like it. It's all blood and gore and a lot of mystery."

"You're the boss," Beth sighed. At least it wasn't a fluff piece. "Text me the address and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Already done. The camera crew will be waiting for you." Then she disconnected with a beep.

True to her word, no sooner had Beth pulled the phone from her ear than it began to vibrate again. She opened the text and scrolled down to the address without bothering to read the message preceding it. She frowned. It looked so familiar. She glanced up at the name and felt her throat close. _Josef Kostan._ She skimmed the rest of the message. Body. Murder. Mangled mess. Police all over. Media circus. The words swam in front of her eyes in disjointed fragments. Oh no, oh god no. This was bad. This was very bad.

Luc peeked over her shoulder and whistled. "Josef Kostan. Wow. Lucky catch. Gonna be a good day for you, huh?"

"A good day… yeah." She gave Luc a forced smile, thumb rubbing the screen of her phone uneasily. "The media's going to _love_ this," she muttered, all the while mind scrambling for an explanation and wondering what the hell Josef had done now.

- - o - -

He was moody and worried, mind wrapped in a sluggish haze when the call came. Glad for a distraction, he snatched up the phone and put it to his ear, caller ID forgotten. "Mick St. John."

"Mick, where are you?" The voice was urgent and bordering on panic.

Mick's heart skipped a beat. _Beth_, it whispered. "At Josef's office," he managed to get out. "Why?" His mind began to kick into gear. Something wasn't right, he realized.

He heard her curse.

"Beth, what's wrong?"

"Don't you know?" she asked incredulously.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Know what?"

She cursed again. "Mick, there's a… something's… something's happened at Josef's. They found a body."

"_What_?! What do you mean they found a body? What happened?"

"I don't know, Mick. Mo just sent me there to cover the story. It doesn't sound good though—the media's already all over it."

"Are you headed there now?"

"Yeah."

"I'll meet you there."

"Okay." She hesitated. "Be careful."

"You too." The phone went silent.

It was only then that he remembered Luc. Luc who had followed the trail of vampire murders from out of town. Luc who, by now, probably suspected that there was something strange between him and Beth. He fought the urge to curse; he had the feeling he would be doing it soon enough.

He wondered if there was a practical way to break the news to Josef. But as it turned out, he didn't have to worry. He found his friend on the phone and from the murderous expression on his face, he had pretty good guess what the conversation was about.

"Why didn't you _call_ when you found it?" he was saying nastily.

Mick watched from a safe distance, not sure whether to be more amused or concerned.

"A likely story," Josef growled. "And a lot of good it did. Now I have to handle this mess myself anyway. … If you were really sorry, this would already be taken care of, wouldn't it? … No, don't try and make up another flimsy excuse—I'm coming down and I better not find things worse than they already are." He slammed the phone down.

"You'll love this, Mick. You won't believe what that idiot psycho did now. Don't even get me started on my so-called security team. What am I paying them to do?" he groused.

"Throwing fits at your employees won't make the news travel any slower you know."

"I need to yell at somebody," he grimaced. "I take it you already heard?"

"Beth's editor sent her over."

"Perfect. Just what I need. Another freaking news venue."

- - o - -

"Members of the Kostan staff insist that their employer has a solid alibi and say that this is the work of a jealous enemy. However, they refuse to make any further comments beyond asking non-employees to clear the estate. This is Beth Turner, for Buzzwire."

"And that's a wrap," Steve proclaimed in mock seriousness as he switched the camera off. "So now that we're off air, what did they _really_ tell you?"

"Steve!"

"Oh come on. You and Mick are friends so by default you and Josef Kostan must be on good terms."

"That's crazy, Steve. Josef Kostan follows his own rules. Besides, he's not big on public dramatics. Keeps to himself when he can help it."

"Aw, Beth, you know I'm not gonna tell anyone. Just a small something?"

She shook her head, smiling, as she handed him the microphone. "You worry about the camerawork and I'll worry about the story, okay?" She patted his shoulder and brushed past him, attention already elsewhere.

"Beth!" A figure broke out of the mob and fell into step beside her. She realized it was Mick.

She glanced back to make sure Steve was a safe distance away. "I didn't say too much, did I?" she asked anxiously.

"No, not at all," he assured her. "Morgue next?"

"Uh huh. First thing the staff did was to have the body removed." She slipped her shades on. "So do you have any idea what this was about?"

Mick shrugged. "Last night someone broke in, this morning a less than friendly package was delivered to his office. As far as I can tell, it's an act of vengeance."

"Vengeance for what?"

"Murder."

"Oh." She fell silent. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

"You don't have to defend him," Mick answered wryly. "It's not something he regrets."

Beth laughed. "No, I suppose he doesn't. But I'm sure it wasn't for sport."

"True enough," he conceded. He flicked a quick glance at her. "Where's Luc?"

"Working on the case he flew out to L.A. to follow."

"Another body?"

"Another body," she confirmed.

"Why aren't you with him?"

"I think Mo was hoping I could wrangle an exclusive from Josef."

Mick chuckled. "In any case, the two bodies are probably related."

"Seems too perfect a coincidence," she agreed.

"You're not going to…" He paused, suddenly unsure. "You're not going to tell Luc, are you?"

She stopped. "I just _knew_ it!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Mick stared at her, taken aback.

"Mick, is this a problem for you? My working with Luc?"

"No!"

"Liar," she accused softly.

"You're imagining a problem that doesn't exist," he argued.

"What are you so afraid will happen?"

He turned away from the challenge in her eyes, swallowing hard. "Nothing."

"What will it take to make you talk to me about Luc?" Beth demanded. "Will he have to die like Josh did?"

Mick flushed, feeling the sting of her comment. "It's not like that Beth… Josh and Luc are completely different; it isn't fair of you to say I feel the same about both of them."

"But in end, isn't it the same old dance? Josh, Luc, half a dozen other guys I don't even remember—the name doesn't matter. I keep waiting for something to happen with you. With us. Sometimes, I think you'll never be ready."

"I never asked you to wait. I never would."

"You never asked me not to either."

He was silent.

"Are you honestly telling me that if I was with Luc, it wouldn't change things between us?"

"Beth, you were crazy about Luc in college. He could convince you to do anything."

"Not anything."

"Enough things."

"But we're not in college anymore. We're not out to be stupid."

"I know you're not. But he's a detective. And he's curious. And he has reason to be curious."

She glared at him. "I would never betray your secret. How could you insist that you trust me if you believe I would give in so easily?"

"I… I don't trust Luc," he admitted finally.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, Mick could have sworn he saw a smile in them. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes. Okay," she repeated patiently.

"You won't tell him, then? That what happened here could—probably is—related to his case?"

"I won't tell him," she sighed.

"Thank you."

She smiled briefly in response but it was a forced smile and they walked the rest of the way in silence, neither of them really believing what had just been said.

- - o - -

The morgue was cold and silent. Scarily, not as cold and silent as the ride there had been. They navigated the halls, steps in sync, energies not. It was Guillermo who, realizing that there was something off between them, broke the silence.

"You two here to see the vamp body?" he asked amiably.

"Vamp body?" Out of habit, they traded surprised glances, bodies forgotten when they found each other's eyes. Laughter crinkled the edges of Mick's eyes and a reluctant smile twitched on Beth's face.

Guillermo cleared his throat. There was a few seconds of confused coughing and swiveling eyes but the tension in the room dropped dramatically.

"Ah, um, the body, right," Mick fumbled.

"But isn't it the Cleaner who takes care of vamp bodies?" Beth cut in at the same time.

"Usually, yes. But these days, everybody's looking out for them. Cleaner couldn't get to it in time so we picked it up instead." He ran a finger over the rows of gleaming drawers. "Here it is." He pulled it out.

Mick stepped forward, sniffing. "He's not decapitated. Or burned." He turned to Guillermo wonderingly. "What's the cause of death?"

Guillermo tapped the vamp's chest. "Silver poisoning in the lungs. Probably from a gaseous silver compound."

Beth studied the vamp's face, mind racing. "Is he… is he a college student?"

"Charlie Sampson, 19, from the local college. How'd you know?"

"Mick, he's—"

"I know." He was staring at the vamp's face too. "Last I saw, he was on the verge of going feral."

"That could be right," Guillermo mused thoughtfully. "He was feeding when he died. Did a real number on his victim; her body is here too."

"Oh no." Beth's hand rose to her lips.

"Found at Josef's?" Mick guessed grimly.

"Mortals didn't have a clue but as soon as they brought the body in, I knew, man. The smell of vampire was all over her. Didn't want to believe it but that's the way it was."

"Let us see the body."

"You sure you ready for this?" He was looking at Beth as he spoke.

Beth nodded and he pulled open the adjacent drawer. She sucked in a loud gasp. "Oh my god…"

She was blood and flesh, so torn up and bloody that there wasn't an inch of smooth, untouched skin. She reeked of death, the stench clinging to her and wafting off her in equal measures. Matted, raven-black curls ran down the side of her face in sticky clumps and snaked around her once pale neck.

Mick stumbled backwards, shaking off the swing of memories and a bad sense of déjà vu. _It's not the same_, he reminded himself. "He did this to her?" he asked shakily, trying to ignore the odd looks Guillermo and Beth were giving him.

"Not all of it."

"What does that mean?"

"She died of blood loss, but not at the scene where the vamp was picked up. And some of these wounds," he pointed a few of the wider gashes out, "aren't vamp inflicted either."

Beth's eyes widened. "She was murdered then. By a human."

"Has to be," Guillermo agreed. "She only smells of one vamp."


	13. 12: City of Intrigue

Thank you for the warm welcome backs and reviews; I appreciate them all. This chapter's set in Europe and it's just the beginning of Mick's lovely adventure. It was a lot more fun to write than I expected so I hope you all enjoy! And you would make my day if you continued to leave feedback!

**Spoilers: **Up to and including "The Mortal Cure" (episode 12)  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing except for a few characters here and there... sad but true.

**AN:** Any misrepresentations of France and Paris are my mistakes! I've no experience to go by so everything was pure research. Please PM me if there is anything glaringly wrong. Thanks!

* * *

_I'm only a man in a funny red sheet  
I'm only a man looking for a dream  
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet  
And it's not easy  
It's not easy to be me_

_  
Five for Fighting, _"Superman (It's Not Easy)"

**  
Chapter 12** – _City of __Intrigue_

_7 months earlier…_  
_Paris__, __France_

The City of Lights took his breath away in an unexpected way. Gone were the chaotic panic and swirls of desperation that he remembered from over half a century ago. In the silence of the cab, he felt the hum of life around him, saw the twinkle of lights and flash of movements. He could sense the laughter and excitement, anticipation and mystery. The night was alive. Paris was alive.

Like a child, Mick stared wide-eyed out the window, hand splayed against the glass. Outside, the Seine rippled gently, shining with the glow of Parisian nightlife, mesmerizing Mick until the cab turned a corner. He smiled reminiscently, seeing in his mind's eye a time when Paris was a sparkle of determination and Parisians had fought for and clung to their city to the end, finally remembering that evacuation was a choice they could make. But it was all a memory now. The war was but a memory. Memories the city was probably proud of. He blew out wistfully wishing he had sweeter memories of his long-ago days. Was he proud of who he had become? Maybe, but it was hard to tell with the past chasing him. _It doesn't have to_, whispered a voice in his head. But he was so used to pushing it away that he didn't even give it a second thought.

He wanted to be deserving of the way Beth looked at him. He wanted to be the hero she thought he was. He wasn't that vampire who was reckless and bloodthirsty, who reveled in unnatural grace and power. Not anymore. But who he was now didn't erase what he was. It didn't erase the impulses he couldn't help. It didn't erase the inhuman cravings he didn't want to have. But being mortal did. Being mortal allowed him to see the side of himself he could never see as a vampire. Being mortal didn't erase the past but it did make it more bearable—it made all his wrongs seem less important. He couldn't explain why; he only knew that his brief taste of mortality hadn't disappointed him. He knew more than ever that it was the only way he could be with Beth.

The steady motion of the cab eased to stillness. Inside, the shadows in front of Mick shifted as a balding grey-haired head twisted around. "La Maison de la Nuit, Monsieur."

The streets were dark and empty, illuminated only by the silent flare of streetlights. Mick unfolded and stepped outside, blinking disorientedly, eyes roving. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower winked, reminding him that he was still in Paris. The driver watched his every move, dark eyes glittering expectantly.

Sighing Mick unloaded his luggage and leaned in the front window to drop some coins into the man's waiting hand. "Merci, Monsieur."

His reply was the clink of coins as the old man first counted the money, then, with a grunt, pocketed it. "Have a good stay," he said gruffly before pulling away.

"Of course," he muttered softly, turning back to survey the buildings before him. He didn't have to guess which one was his destination—it was, unquestionably, the quaint, two-story one directly in front of him, flanked by two taller structures. His eyes were immediately drawn to the large, grotesque figures perched atop the gently sloping roof, some of which were hugging the slim, extended columns at the building's corners. _Gargoyles_, he realized with a start. _For protection?_ Curious indeed.

Three short strides took him to the door. Nailed next to it was an old, worn plaque with thin, gold script that confirmed his suspicions. _Maison de la Nuit_. On the door the distorted face of a brass knocker stared back at him hostilely. He lifted the ring that hung between the creature's sharp, barred teeth and banged it against the wood.

When the door swung inwards mere seconds later Mick took a few stumbling steps backwards, head spinning from the sudden onslaught of decay on his senses. Had Josef mentioned anything about _old_ vamps? He couldn't remember…

A vision in red greeted him, tall and elegant, a loose, long, golden brown braid dangling just below her waist. She smiled warmly, liquid chocolate eyes deceptively guileless. "Bonsoir, Monsieur. Comment je peux vous aider?"

Mick couldn't help the smile that spread across his face; he had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. He remembered how Josef had described her now. One of those once-a-century booty calls, so to speak. Except that she had had the wisdom to suggest that perhaps it would be better for the both of them if they remained just friends or, if he preferred, acquaintances. He gazed at her with new respect; he didn't doubt that they could be great friends.

"S'il vous plaît, je…" His throat went dry as memory fluttered and failed.

Josef's words flashed through his mind. _She is fluent in English and an abundance of other tongues. Communication should not be a problem._

Mick cleared his throat and tried again. "If you please, I am seeking Madame Jeannette Moreau."

Her eyes sparked and she chuckled. "Ah, you are Monsieur St. John, correct? Apologies for my rudeness; I did not know! Welcome to Maison de la Nuit—House of Night."

She ducked outside gracefully and gathered his bags. "Come. Let us get you settled."

- - o - -

She led him to a small, simply furnished room on the second floor. There was a twin bed, a polished wood dresser, and velvet red carpeting.

"Cozy," Mick commented.

"This is just for appearances of course." She crossed the room with purposeful steps, stopping between two plush armchairs where a wide, floor-length, abstract tapestry hung. She ran her fingers over the tightly woven floral patterns and leafy curls. "Beautiful isn't it?"

"Very," Mick agreed.

She smiled and lifted the tapestry delicately. "Watch carefully, Monsieur St. John." Using her free hand, she positioned her fingers on the fine line between two of the wall's painted wood panels and pulled with a firm force. The panel under the tapestry slid away with a dull clunk to reveal a doorway that ran halfway up the wall.

Mick stared, barely registering the whoosh of cold air that rushed out. "Clever."

Jeannette laughed delightedly at his surprise. "Oh yes. No mortal will discover it. The panel is much too heavy—purposely so."

He stepped inside, prompting her to call out, "Light switch to your right."

Slim cylinders in silver-black fixtures whirred to life and bathed the previously hidden space in a blue-white glow. A large white freezer sat in the center, bottom edges fringed with carefully molded snarling faces.

"It is not much, I'm afraid."

"It will do," Mick assured her.

"I'm glad to hear it," she replied, pleased. "I will leave you to make yourself at home. But come down when you are ready—I'd like to talk a bit. I understand that you are staying here indefinitely; I'm sure you agree that a stay among friends is much preferred to a stay among strangers."

"Of course." He dipped his head. "Thank you for your hospitality."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't fuss about it. I'm happy to do it."

- - o - -

A half hour later, Mick was downstairs, changed and refreshed. He followed Jeannette's scent to the kitchen, stopping several times to examine the gargoyle likenesses that seemed to be appearing throughout the dwelling. They stared at him from light fixtures, tables, paintings—almost anything decorative was sure to sport a face glaring at him with strange, sometimes bulging, eyes.

He found her sipping a glass of wine at a low table. When he entered, she rose to meet him. "Everything in order?"

"The place is very well kept," he offered.

She smiled and guided him to another stool across the table. "Thank you. Wine?"

Mick shrugged. "Why not?" He took the glass she was holding out and sipped, enjoying the pleasant warmth the tinge of blood burned down his throat. "So what is it that you do here? Josef didn't specify—he only said that you could offer me a place to stay."

"Officially we are… what is it you Americans call it?" She tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "A bed and breakfast. Yes that's it. A bed and breakfast. But we also have accommodations for our, shall I say, less mortal patrons. I have lived almost half a millennium you see. But here in Europe, it is not so uncommon. We are careful. You have heard the stories of mobs, torch bearing and otherwise, no doubt." Seeing the disbelief in his eyes, she added, "They are no exaggeration."

"Family ties are strong," she continued. "Like the old days, vampires travel a lot. Often they need to stop and rest. And Paris is quite the busy city—this place is a vampire haven in general. There are always several girls on shifts. They keep the place neat but if need be, they are blood donors, freshies."

"It is a noble cause."

"Do you think so? Josef warned me that you did not enter the fold willingly and that you had not yet accepted what you were."

Mick turned away. "Yes, that's true. He must have told you why I've come."

"He did. It is silly of you to want to go back. Fangs is not all we have been given. Humans and their mortality are precious—you are not wrong about that. But eternity is a wonderful gift. You cannot imagine all the amazing things you will come to see."

"I cannot imagine all the loneliness I will have to endure."

"Loneliness?" She reached over and took his hand, pity in her eyes. "Loneliness is a creation of your mind. Josef is your friend, is he not? Do you know that he cares about you? He would not send you to me if he didn't."

"It's not enough," Mick sighed. "There is…" He blushed. "There is something else. Someone else."

Jeannette smiled wryly. "Of course. There is always someone else. Beth, correct?" She clapped her hands together suddenly. "Very well, then. I will help you in your quest in any way I'm able, young one. But in time, you will see that I am right. There is nothing to loathe in what you have been given. Now tell me who it is you seek."

"The DuValls," he replied, seeing in her eyes that she already knew.

"You are sure?" she asked softly. "Since Renard DuVall was killed, the family has been volatile and unpredictable. Jean DuVall takes nothing lightly."

"Please. Tell me where to find them," Mick pressed, undeterred.

"They were once of the court but since the Revolution, the nobility has been displaced. It may be that they have taken up residence at Versailles again, but if you do not find them… well," she shrugged, "do not be surprised."

"What if they are not at Versailles?"

"I do not know," she answered apologetically. "You should visit the Hôtel de Ville. It is our city hall. The records there can tell you much more than I can."

Mick sat back. "Closed at this hour I imagine…"

Jeannette pulled the glass away from her lips, laughing. "Yes, naturally. Don't look so disappointed. Rest a bit. You can continue your chase _demain_—tomorrow."

Mick nodded, suddenly feeling the jet lag. "Good night then. Thank you for all you've done."

She raised the glass in a salute. "Bonne nuit, young one."

Mick was at the threshold when he remembered the question he had forgotten to ask her. He turned back. "Just one more thing—may I ask why the gargoyles?"

"Nostalgia. An old thing like me misses the old days. I find that it is much too easy to get bored in this time. And besides," she leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "there is power in beasts. You would do well to remember that during your stay in France." She smiled at him and Mick thought he saw a flash of fangs but when he blinked, it was gone.

- - o - -

The next day dawned cool and cloudy. Jeannette greeted him with a tall glass of warm blood. "Fresh," she explained as she handed it to him. "The girls left a generous supply if you find you need more."

Mick accepted the glass gratefully. "I'm sure this is enough to satiate me. I must be on my way soon."

She shook her head, peering out the window at the pale, washed out sky. "It would appear the heavens favor you."

"I'll take whatever blessing I can get."

"Bonne chance." Her eyes twinkled. "Don't get lost."

As fate would have it, he did get lost. Lack of French fluency made him wretchedly confused as he tried to map out his journey on the Métro. After several false starts and wrong stops, it finally clicked and he made it to the Hôtel de Ville without circumstance.

When he found the public archive he found an A. Bruyère whipping his head around hastily to greet him. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Bienvenu à l'Hôtel de Ville." He spoke in a rush and when he had finished, he looked Mick up and down. With some surprise, he said, "You are American. A tourist?"

"No. I seek information."

"If you seek information on our beautiful city, then perhaps the sights would interest you. There is much you can learn from them."

"Information on one family will suffice."

"Oh? Are you tracing your genealogy?"

"Something of the sort. Would there happen to be any record of the DuValls' current residence?"

A. Bruyère rubbed his neck unconsciously. "There haven't been any DuValls in Paris since the Revolution."

"Where have they gone?"

"Don't know. They were nobility. Could've gone back to Versailles. A lot of the noble families did."

"But are they there now?"

"Don't know," he repeated patiently. "It's been two centuries and Versailles is not what it used to be. That's all I know for sure."

Mick gritted his teeth to keep from yelling at the old man. "Can't you check the records?"

"We lost much of the records from that period to a fire."

"And what about the current ones?"

"Off access," came the immediate reply. "They are being re-catalogued."

"You're sure you can't tell me anything else about the DuValls?" Mick questioned suspiciously.

"Certain." He gazed upwards, finally meeting Mick's eyes.

Mick considered questioning the man further but decided that a search elsewhere would yield more progress. "Thank you anyway. Perhaps you will be able to help me more another day."

He blinked bleary blue eyes. "Have a nice day."

- - o - -

Mick couldn't shake the feeling that the man had known more than he was telling. There had been something very odd about the encounter altogether, though if the vibe was real or imagined he didn't know.

The reluctance to disclose information had been obvious. Less obvious was why. Mick toyed with the possibility that he was connected to the family. He thought back, trying to remember if there had been any spark of recognition. He was certain any DuVall would have recognized him—he was Coraline's infamous unsanctioned creation after all.

A fat droplet of water splattered on his nose. Mick looked up at the darkening sky, the scent of impending rain hitting him. He suddenly realized what it was that had been bothering him. The smell of vampire. Inside. In the archives.

Drop after drop, rain began to fall. Mick raced to retrace his steps, leaving the rain to hit the now unoccupied pavement.

- - o - -

Adrian Bruyère waited a few seconds after the dark haired visitor had left. Then he turned back to the shadows. "My lady?" he whispered.

Cynthia glided out of the semidarkness, a frown on her lovely face. "You disappoint me, Adrian. That could have gone better."

He bowed his head. "My apologies."

She regarded him shrewdly. "Too late for apologies now, Adrian. He will return—I'm sure of it—and when he does, you must do better."

He blinked languidly, ever aware of her deepening frown. "May I ask how?"

"Enough with the games, Adrian!" Cynthia circled around his desk and paced agitatedly. "You shouldn't have told him about Versailles in the first place!"

"It is a common enough fact," he replied, confused.

She whirled on him. "You're missing the point! Coraline must not find out he's in France! It will ruin everything…"

"She is at Versailles then?" Adrian pressed, interest piqued.

"That's of no importance to you," Cynthia snapped. "Listen closely; I have a plan."

He straightened, eyes glinting. "I've paid my dues," he replied sharply. "I am no longer bound to your family."

"No, no. Of course you're not," Cynthia answered sweetly. "I am not demanding anything of you. I am asking a favor of you. For old times' sake."

"I want no part in your murderous schemes. No more blood on my hands—Marie agreed when she released me."

"I can't force you. It is your choice to make. But think," she leaned down, sliding cold fingers over the back of his hand, "Grand-mère would be so disappointed to learn that her favorite freshie could not betray her fast enough once he had cut his ties to her. How upset she will be that he could not even carry out one small, insignificant favor. What a perfect excuse it would give her to pay your dear Hélène a visit. She has been itching to, you know; this whole engagement business is not to her taste."

Adrian stiffened. "What would you have me do, my lady?"

"It's child's play really. All you have to do is send him away. I think he would enjoy a coastal city—Nice, perhaps Marseille. Anywhere really. As long as he is out of the Île-de-France region."

His shoulders drooped, tension draining. "Just simple trickery then."

Cynthia snorted. "You've grown soft, Adrian. You once lived to get blood on your hands, simply to prove yourself to Grand-mère."

"I don't deny the truth in that but—"

"I've heard the details. Spare me of them. I only need your assurance that you will do as I've asked."

"You have my word," he assured after a moment's hesitation.

She studied him through narrowed eyes. "I expect to hear from you soon."

"The moment it is done."

And then she was gone.

The silence was short-lived. Only moments later, the shadows shifted again and this time, Mick St. John stormed in. Adrian started and found himself clenching his fists to still the sudden violent trembles.

Anger colored the air like an ugly backdrop. Mick's eyes flashed. Dark, frost, dark. "Perhaps I didn't make my query clear earlier. I'll ask you again—where are the DuValls?"

"Monsieur, I have already told you—"

"I know that you have just spoken to Cynthia Xavier Davis," Mick interrupted.

He held Mick's gaze, considering the situation. With a sigh, he strode briskly toward the exit. "Come with me, then."

- - o - -

The click of the lock echoed loudly in the empty hallway. Adrian glanced around furtively before pushing the door open to reveal a dustily glimmering sunlit flat. "My humble lodgings," he explained. With some bitterness, he added, "At the very least, we may speak freely here. Marie's parting gift to me."

Mick held a hand over his eyes, trying to ward off the sunlight. "Marie? She is Cynthia's grandmother?"

Adrian pressed his lips together. "The one and only." Noticing Mick's discomfort, he gestured to the row of French doors opposite and said, "The shades are drawn but there is nothing I can do about those."

"No matter; I won't stay long. Marie, is she loyal to the DuValls too?"

"Fortunately, no. But she dotes on Cynthia and it would be unwise to refuse either of them."

Mick roamed the small space, feeling Adrian's gaze follow him. "It is a curious situation you're in," he commented, casually retreating to a darkened corner.

Adrian laughed mirthlessly. "That's putting it generously. Curious is how I ended up in this position. Curious is my foolish belief that because Marie gave me her blessing, I'm finally free. They don't know what free is; they are trapped in eternity."

Mick closed his eyes. "You don't know how true that is. Eternity is an ugly, tempting trap that hurts all that is cherished. Were you bound to their family for long?"

"Almost sixty years," he replied steadily. "After the war, I was thirteen and alone. Father died in battle, mother just gone. I was on the streets, desperate, hungry, and plain out wild."

"And they found you?"

"No. An orphanage found me. Never could remember which but I stayed with them for six years. And that was where Marie found me, silent and bad-tempered. She took me home—to do the dirty work as it turned out—but I naïvely believed she was adopting me. It would have been ideal. The house was perfect—secluded, luxurious, beautiful women everywhere."

"Cynthia said you were a freshie," Mick pointed out.

"Not right away. Marie had handpicked me but she needed to be sure."

"Sure of what?"

He shrugged. "My health? My devotion to her? She never told me. She came to me one day and that night, everything changed."

_Adrian__ shoved the papers away, frustrated. Six years! Six years of attending to the news and he had yet to find a shred of information on them. It wasn't his mother he cared about but little Lucie and her solemn grey eyes. Little Lucie who was innocent but so wise. She would have been able to give him the clarity he so desperately wanted now. And oh how she had delighted in showing him how unconditionally she loved him! He could barely remember what affection felt like…_

_Outside the chamber, he heard quick footsteps. He hastened to collect the scattered papers just as the door creaked open._

_"__Adrian__!"_

_He scrambled to his feet, head low. Marie! "My lady."_

_Slim fingers grasped his chin and forced him to look up. "There is something I would discuss with you."_

_"Of course, my lady."_

_"Tonight. Come to my chambers. It is something special, I promise you. But you mustn't tell the other boys."_

_His heart thumped. "What—"_

_But she placed a finger on his lips. "Hush. Come tonight and you may ask whatever you wish but not a word now. As for that," her gaze flitted to the papers in his hand, "you must let go of the past. Things will be different now. The past won't matter anymore."_

"Why did you stay for so long? Weren't you free to leave?" Mick asked quietly.

"I was Marie's favorite, that much was clear. It was… refreshing to matter. If I had left, I would have nobody again. And I owed it all to Marie. I fancied myself in love with her even. But when it became apparent that I was nothing more than a freshie, love cooled to duty. I was her favorite but that didn't mean anything. It is almost comical how concerned with bloodlines they are. My line traces back to the sans-culottes, hers to the nobility. In their eyes, it would never have worked."

"But you stayed," Mick persisted.

"Wouldn't you have? I've heard the stories of you and Coraline."

"I didn't know she was a vampire. Not until our wedding night."

"Why do you seek her then?"

"I… I m… It's complicated. I would appreciate your aid."

"Cynthia would have my head if she found out."

"She'll never know."

"It is still risky. I'm worried for Hélène. We are newly engaged and Marie… she is not pleased about it at all."

"I understand what it is like to have to protect the one you love. But I won't hurt Coraline. I only wish to speak to her. Cynthia will have no reason to turn on you."

Adrian turned away and for a long time, he was silent. So silent, Mick was afraid he wouldn't answer.

"Adrian…"

"Do you give your word?" he asked suddenly, gazing at Mick intently, blue eyes probing.

"I won't tell and I won't harm her," Mick promised.

"I do not know if she is at Versailles or not. That is the truth. But of late, Cynthia has traveled there often and you can make of that what you will."

Mick blew out in relief. "She must be at Versailles then… thank you, Adrian. You've helped me more than you know. It is not much but I can promise you and Hélène will be safe. I have a friend; I'll ask her to keep an eye on you."

"I have learned to take a vampire's words with a grain of salt but if you speak truly, thank you."

Mick smiled in answer but at that moment, a cloud drifted past, plunging the room into darkness. When it had passed Mick was gone and Adrian stared at the space where he had been, back warmed by the sun, feeling strangely at peace.


End file.
